


Modern Love

by MissWolfinger



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Excessive Meddling from Friends and Family, F/M, Inappropriate Usernames, Online Friendship, Online Relationship, Social Media, Swearing, idiots to lovers, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWolfinger/pseuds/MissWolfinger
Summary: Here, I’ve thought out a simple way for you to start meeting people. No need to jump right into the thick of it when you can do things at your own pace.Papyrus walked to the table to pick up his phone before returning and passing it over to his brother. An app was currently loading on the screen.It’s called Yakety-App.Papyrus wants his brother to be more social and encourages him to forge some new friendships through the wonders of social media.Sans just wants to work his obligatory eight hours then stow away in his bedroom and be gross.Good thing Sans will do anything for his bro.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 157
Kudos: 321





	1. All the Good User Names are Taken.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/gifts).



> This fic is heavily inspired by gigiree's story [Sans' Guide to Moving On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238370/chapters/55641763)
> 
> If you have not blessed your eyes with this fic yet, please do so. Cause you're missing out.

It was a dreary day. 

Leaves were rustling, a car horn was blaring, and Sans was trying not to doze off at his hotdog stand. 

Business had been quiet that day due to the weather; what with the chill from both the wind and a cloudy sky, and people were reluctant to waste their lunch breaks out in the cold. 

“beach weather my bony ass, thaddeus beckett,” Sans mumbled under his breath. 

Any other day and he’d be slinging dogs and toasting buns at a steady rate until the hours passed by in a blur of casual jokes and monetary exchanges. The people of this city loved their tube meat, and if there was one thing that got them fired up, it was the nomenclature and nuances of the humble hot dog. 

Last summer, as a way to drum up business, he had placed a polling station near his cart, along with a sign asking, “Is a hot dog a sandwich?”

He really didn’t care one way or the other. Hot dogs were delicious regardless of what food category they happened to be in. But the reaction his question posed was the highlight of his summer. 

People would argue with each other daily, to various degrees of furiousness, and yelling matches broke out on several occasions. 

One in particular that stood out was the time an exasperated blue-collar woman got into it with the scraggliest looking hippie. She was shrieking that “a sandwich could not be, as he had defined it, ‘meat between bread’ because then a calzone would be considered a sandwich, and if a calzone is a sandwich then two pizzas stacked on top of each other, following the same idiotic logic, would also be a sandwich!” 

Sans could see the wheels turning in this man’s head; the buzz of his residual high fading as his face changed to shock. His poor bohemian mind, expecting merely to consume a hot dog, instead had some life-changing, mind-blowing epiphany. After a beat, he told her she was a genius and that he’d been eating pizza wrong his entire life. Probably didn’t help that he tried to hug her.

Sans, barely able to contain his laughter, watched while the poor woman suffered what was surely an aneurysm. 

One guy even asked if he could vote multiple times to ensure that a hot dog _was_ considered a sandwich; as if this bullshit poll had any validity at all. Bemusedly, Sans informed him he could only cast one vote a day, and sure enough, there were no less than ten individuals who returned every day without fail to buy a hotdog and cast a ballot in the world’s dumbest poll. 

Of all his bright ideas, this one shook his faith in humanity a little. 

Did wonders for his business though. 

With no hijinks to occupy his time Sans found himself struggling to keep his eyes open as the day wore on. 

Working a hotdog stand was relatively easy and required very little mental bandwidth. It came naturally to Sans, though that may have been muscle memory from his days Underground. And part of the muscle memory included occasionally sleeping on the job (thank you very much low HP).

An alarm on his phone snapped him to attention and momentarily shook away the haze of sleep. It was his monthly alarm alerting him to “confirm movie night”. Ahh, the beginning of the month. A time when two semi reclusive people attempt to make _and_ follow through with plans for social interactions.

Sans hit the proverbial jackpot with this particular friend. They were good with is bro, had a decent sense of humor and didn’t demand much of him. They talked almost daily but most of their conversations were through text and revolved around sharing various cursed imagery. And if they spent time together it was usually for the obligatory once a month get together which was mainly to keep his brother off his back about not being social. But even so, what they had was still genuine. 

After fishing out his phone Sans silenced the alarm then began to text his friend. 

**S.T. Skeleton: heya bud that time again u free this wknd to come over n watch a movie r 2**

**~~~~~**

You were surprised to hear the chime of your phone’s text notification. Last you had checked there was so signal in the fields where your equipment was set up and the day had gone by free of any distractions. Though now that you were distracted, damn it was getting cold. The wind was picking up something fierce, bringing in some dark clouds and maybe you should finish your findings report back in your truck before you moved on to a new sample site.

“A good day for the beach my supple ass Thaddeus Beckett. The only job that you get to be crap at on a consistent basis yet they still refer to your ‘expertise’ every day,” you mused out loud. 

After removing a dusty glove you checked your phone and saw a message from your friend Sans asking if you’d be coming over to watch movies this weekend. 

“That time again, eh?” you mumbled to yourself before deft fingers spun out a quick reply. 

**RockSolid: You bet. Just remind me the day before or I’ll forget and then bail. You know the drill.**

As you pocketed your phone you could feel several drops of rain, spurring you to race towards your laptop and put it in the nearby vehicle. Every thirty seconds or so you punctuated your actions with a colorful curse word as you settled in to carry out the rest of your day working in rain. 

**~~~~~**

When Papyrus got home that afternoon he was not surprised to see his brother’s wet hoodie and soaked shoes at the door. The sudden monsoon-like rain would have put an end to any outdoor affair, and his brother was the type to find any outrageous excuse to shut down early. This time it just happened to be totally legitimate. 

That dreadful weatherman really ought to be replaced with, well, _anything_ really. Even a badger could probably predict future weather patterns with more accuracy than Thaddeus Beckett. 

It was just as well since Papyrus wanted to talk to his brother about a growing concern and the sooner the better.

After removing and hanging his own wet belongings Papyrus started the search, first checking for fuzzy pink slippers hanging over the armrest of the livingroom chesterfield. Nope.

He wasn’t in the kitchen either. 

Sans couldn’t be downstairs as he was still banned from entering the basement after recent events dubbed, “The Unpleasantness” which were not worth mentioning, _ever_. 

The only place left was his room and Papyrus swiftly ascended the stairs and knocked on his door, ensuing to knock six or seven times to offset any chance at a ‘knock knock’ joke formulating.

Papyrus heard the shuffling of blankets and soft padded steps before the bedroom door opened to reveal a tired-looking disheveled Sans. 

“hey paps, what’s up? how was work?” 

“Work was fine, we finished early today. Sans I’d like to talk to you about something, can I,” Papyrus hesitated before finishing his question. He loved his brother very much despite his utter lack of innate cleanliness, and while the rest of the house had to remain in peak condition, Sans’ room was the one place Papyrus had no jurisdiction over. Like the shadowy lands in that lion movie he liked so much. “Come in?”

Sans shuffled his feet before looking back into the recesses of his room, sensing his brother unease. 

“sure paps, but, ya know, why don’t we talk downstairs. i could use a bite anyways.”

The relief on Papyrus’ face was as apparent as him being a skeleton. “Splendid idea. I’ll meet you down there.” 

Papyrus turned on his heels and beelined for the kitchen trying not to think about the last time he was in Sans’ room and what he saw in that garbage vortex. There were just some things one was not meant to know about their sibling. At any rate googly eyes were now on the list of items bared from entering his house. 

Sans was already perched up on the counter in the kitchen by the toaster waiting for his bread to pop when Papyrus walked in. 

“so, whattaya wanna chat bout?”

“In a word, friends.” 

“oh hey, speaking of, my pal’s coming over for our movie night in a couple o’ days. you gonna join us?

“Sure, if I’m around. Sans, I’m going to be blunt here, but I think you should try to meet new people and make some _new_ friends.”

Sans’ response had a bit more of an edge than he intended, but he was genuinely caught off guard. “hey, i have _great_ friends paps. what’s this all about?” 

Papyrus put up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not implying there is anything wrong with the friends you currently have. All, what, two of them? Three if I’m being generous, Four if I include myself. Five if - are you and Undyne still fighting?”

“until she admits she’s an ass and apologizes for the saxophone incident, yes.”

“Then four it is. Listen, Sans, it’s not about quantity. My point is simply that it would do you good, _real_ good, to try new things and meet some new people. Join a book club. Play bingo on Thursday nights at the senior’s home. Just something to put you out there! You know I met the most interesting human with a Gatling gun for a hand the other day while jogging on my lunch break. It turns out he doesn’t actually have a gun for a hand, he was just pretending, but he’s delightful to spend time with and we are now friends.” 

Sans grunted in response but otherwise kept quiet. 

“Look, you so rarely see Dr. Alphys anymore, and your human friend is lovely, but they are often out of town for work. And while it’s sad that you don’t spend as much time with Grillby, you know cutting back on the drinking has been a positive change for you. I’m not suggesting you try and reach my friend count. That bar is WAY too high but...” Papyrus crossed the kitchen to Sans and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to force some brotherly eye contact. “I’ve noticed you’ve started hiding away more and more, just like old times, and I think you need this. You’ve made such amazing progress and we should keep pushing forward.”

The silence in the kitchen was thick, cut only by the sound of toasted bread heralding its new crusty existence. 

Sans reached out to grab a slice, chewing methodically to avoid talking. 

“Here, I’ve thought out a simple way for you to start meeting people. No need to jump right into the thick of it when you can do things at your own pace.” 

Papyrus walked to the table to pick up his phone before returning and passing it over to his brother. An app was currently loading on the screen.

“It’s called Yakety-App. A program used for monsters to meet like-minded individuals and stay connected. You create a profile and answer some questions, and then it helps match you with applicable candidates based on all the criteria you’ve entered.”

San scrolled through a sea of his brother’s contacts and notifications, still unsure about the app. “i dunno paps, i mean how fulfilling can an online relationship be with someone who calls themselves MapleThunderDownUnder?”

“Come now Sans, best not to judge a book by its title. Maple is a sweetheart who regularly sends me videos of people scraping barnacles off of sea turtles. It’s oddly satisfying” Papyrus took back his phone and left the kitchen, walking towards the staircase. He paused before beginning the climb. “Please, at the very least just make a profile. That’s all I’m asking brother.”

Sans didn’t offer up a response, but Papyrus didn’t linger for one anyways. Sans remained seated on the counter, eating plain toast and collecting crumbs on his shorts. Really, how bad could it be? All in all signing up would take minimal effort on his part, would make his brother happy, and when it inevitably went nowhere, he could go back to business as usual. At least until his brother came down on his case again with another plan to ease the despondency on his soul. 

But that was a problem for future sans. 

Sighing in resignation Sans searched for the app on his phone and proceeded to download his new project for the evening. Much to his delight, KetchupDawg101 was available as a username. 

tbc


	2. My Super Power is Kissing People's Faces off.

_Ultimate power, of hope on a whim in a dream on the wings at the door of love._  
_When there is a problem that I can’t face_  
_I’ll just walk up and kiss your face._  
_We are the best of friends._  
_Here to save the world again_  
_Mew Mew. Kissy. Cutie._  
_Do you. Like Me. Tooooo?_

The intro to season two of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie came to life in the living room of your friend’s condo. Various Chinese take out containers were strewn about to give you all sustenance for the night’s binge-watching. You sat beside Alphys on the floor, who was nestled between the legs of her fiance. Undyne sprawled out wide on the loveseat, shoving various noodles in her mouth, eyes glued to the screen.

“Man, everything about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 down to the new theme song is garbage. I mean, what was even the point of the huge realization at the end of season one that kissing induced mind control was wrong, and that you can solve problems and make friends without power lips, only to SOMEHOW forget everything that you learned in your last year of high school and then you go back to your misguided kissy-face ways? The writers just stepped all over the cannon and for what? More marketable villain toys?”

Alphy’s responded through a mouth full of spicy chicken. “Oh my gosh yes. I was just talking the other day with some friends about the whole Celiba-Cyril ark and how it’s basically a weaker version of Mojo Man in season one. Same tragic backstory, same general powers, but from a 3D modeling standpoint, he’s a smoother design.” Alphys paused briefly and offered you a spring roll with her chopsticks. 

“Spring rolls? Bleg. You can have my share Undyne.” 

“Sweet. Pass it over babe”. Undyne leaned forward to grab the offered up deep-fried morsel between her teeth.

Alphys carried on without missing a beat. “You should join our Mew Mew chat room! It’s the best. There are people in it from all over the world, and we talk about theories and head cannons. Tons of fanfic too. And there is constant trash talk about season two. You’d really like that part. Now technically it’s a friendship/romance hybrid app. Something akin to Matchr meets Grumble meets Undernet. But it can also serve as a mass chat room. It was originally created to help monsters to meet up with each other, but humans use it now too.” Alphy’s trademark stutter was all but gone when she got excited about something she knew like the back of her scaley hand. 

She set aside her plate of food and reached for her phone on the coffee table. After her claws furiously tapped away she began to brandish it in your face.”

Alphys was moving the phone around so much you had to really focus and squint to read the screen. “Yakety-App? Ha, that’s cute. Sans would like that one.”

You heard Undyne scoff into her shanghai noodles. “Ug, Sans.” 

The look you gave her was one of pure shock. “Oh my god, how have you two not made up yet?”

“Hey, I’ll go back to being friends when he admits he’s a jerk and apologizes for the Parachute Incident. I’m still finding bits of grass in unmentionable places to this day.”

You replied with a low ‘yikes’ before turning back to the screen. Definitely not your problem, but man were those two were holding the world’s dumbest grudge for what had to be the funniest story to look back on. At least for you. Ah, fun times…. _for you_.

“So, about Yakety-App.” 

“Alphys, buddy, it sounds cool, but it also sounds like work and I’m not much of a social media person. Now quiet, this line coming up is like, the _one_ good part of the whole second season.”

One moment, two moments, three moments of silence until, “Hey Punk, whatever happened to Noah.”

“Ug, Really? Did you not just hear what I said? And if we have to talk, can we talk about literally anything other than my ex?”

“OK, you seeing anybody?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. You two, right now. I’m seeing you with my eyes. You look good. Now watch the damn show.”

“Is that a yesss?”

“Jesus Undyne!” You put your plate aside and turned completely around to stare menacingly in your friend’s one golden eye. You made sure to emphasize the ‘yes’ as she did for added effect. “It’s a yesss I want to deck you in the schnoz.” You could feel a rant coming on so you settled in for the ride. “ _No_ dude, I’m not seeing anyone. How could I be? Noah left me because I was always working. And work means I’m gone to the middle of the boonies, knee-deep in sediment and charts for weeks on end, and when faced with a choice between love and a career, I chose a love _for_ my career. I can’t even be mad at him, because it was absolutely my fault. So here I am, indeed very much single. I ask you this, how could I possibly A) find the time to meet someone and have a genuine connection, and B) put someone else through that and have a relationship when I’m never around to… ship… it? I dunno, I’m kinda lost in this rant. You get it.” 

Undyne’s expression turned soft, or as soft as a marred fish woman missing an eye can get. “He wasn’t right for you. It’s his loss, not yours. You’re tough as nails and you need someone who respects that the coarser things in life are worth sticking it out for.” Undyne wrapped her arms around Alphys’ chest and gave her a big exaggerated squeeze for effect. 

Alphys meeped in response at the sudden love attack as her scales started to turn rosy. 

How two people could be together for so long and still blush was above you. You’d complain about how sickening sweet they were if their love wasn’t so genuine.

Alphys also turned in her spot to better face you before she reached out to take your hand in hers. 

“I know things didn’t work out with Noah, b-b-but you’re a wonderful person and m-maybe you just need to put yourself out there. You never know who is going to love you for who you are if you don’t look for them.” Alphys cast a wistful look at Undyne and fluttered her eyes for good measure.

Since the best line of the show had now long since passed, you sighed in resignation. “Tell ya what, I promise to check a dumpster once a day and if I find Mister Right hiding in it, I promise to give him a bath.”

Undyne’s snort was definitely unflattering, but so perfect for her it was almost adorable. “Way to set the bar real high champ.”

“Setting the bar high means setting yourself up for disappointment. I prefer a realist’s approach to things. Plus I can relate to being trash. We’d have something to talk about.”

“Hey, it’s time we get serious for a m-moment.” Alphys turned the tv volume down as the Mecha Love Boat Scene began, and the look in her eyes screamed the ‘conversation must go on’. “We’ve b-both been thinking about it, and we agree that you’ve b-been isolating yourself too much. It would b-be a really good idea for you to think about dating again.” 

“Yeah, you’re kinda becoming more obsessive about your house plants and getting weirdly into memes, which in turn makes you infinitely more boring.”

“Oh wooow!” You proceeded to mime pulling toys out of a giant sack. “Looks at all these shiny new opinions that I didn’t ask for!”

“Don’t b-be like that. I’m-m just asking you to hear us out. How long are you gonna b-be out of town next?”

You sighed in defeat, “Three weeks. Six-on, one-off. Not looking forward to it. I leave on Monday.” 

Undyne clasped a hand firmly on your shoulder. “Then it’s the perfect time for you make an account. It will give you something to do on your downtime other than stare at various hotel fluid stains. Plus it’s more fun to keep in touch that way than through regular texting.”

“Even you’re on it?”

“Yuup. Come on, what’s the harm in just trying it out? Even if it doesn’t end in romance you might enjoy it. Make a friend or two. What’s the worse thing that could happen?”

“I fall madly in love with a man and we’re perfect for each other in every way, and then we finally meet up to consummate our digital love, and afterward he turns out to be my twin brother and then the rest of my existence is awkward forever?” 

“You have a twin b-b-brother?”

“No, but Undynde asked for the worst scenario. So are we gonna watch this show or…?”

“Come on ya wuss. Gimme your phone. I’ll do it for you. Can’t get any easier than that.”

“Ou ou ou we can take a profile pic and add a cute little car ear filter to it!!!”

“...Is that _no_ on finishing Mew Mew?”

~~~~ 

You had managed to stave them off for all of thirty minutes, the time it took to finish eating; if you had to be miserable you could at least be full. After downloading the app and verifying an email address Undyne got to work filling out your profile.

“First up is your name.

“I don’t seriously have to put that out there right? Doesn’t it like, ruin the immersion? Aren’t there more creative ways around that name business that don’t give away this illusion I’m trying to create. Cause let’s be clear, I’m only doing this for your delusional fantasies.” 

“Oof, just gonna call m-me out like that?”

“What?”

“W-what? No, a username is fine! Lots of people just use usernames.”

“Then I want Is Baby.”

“Lame. Now it wants your age.”

“Is it mandatory?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Then just put legal.”

“Occupation?”

“Chalk enthusiast.” Alphy’s scoffed and gave you an unimpressed look. “What? I am. You know me! I can’t see a hopscotch course and not use it.”

“It’s asking for your sexuality now.”

“Uhh… stra-”

“Dude, I’ve seen your computer history.”

“Bi?”

“….. Close enough. Seeking; check all that apply. Friendship, romance, mentor...” Undyne purposely left out ‘Daddy’.

“I guess put me down for friendship.”

And Undyne, being the wonderful friend she is, selected all of the above.

“Ok punk, I’m gonna put this on voice to text and you can just speak your bio out loud. Ready?” 

“Punch it Chewy” Undyne shot you a finger gun and you started your attempt at a bio. “Uh, hi. Do you say hi in these things? So… I like the outdoors? I’m usually always outside. Camping is a sort of a hobby of mine, but I don’t really have the time for it anymore.”

“I hate cooking for just myself, but I love to eat. So ya know, I do it anyways. I’m allergic to pretty much all things with fur. My favorite place to eat out is the Costco food court because their poutine is bomb for the price.”

Were you blowing it? They were looking at you like you were blowing it.

“Anyways, That’s me in a nutshell, swipe up or down on me or whatever. Or don’t. It’s not like I’ll know if you did. Umm. Bye? Do you say bye in these things?”

Undyne promptly submitted what you had before slowly pushing your phone back to you. “Hey, at least you can always go back in and fix _everything_ later. The important thing is you made an account.” She shared a high five with Alphys before stretching out on the loveseat as one would after a hard day’s work. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”


	3. The Furbies Have the Cooking Box.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never judge a username by its sex toy.

The early morning of Ebott city was unseasonably cool, bringing in a chilly, frosty start to the day. The day of your movie night with Sans, before you left town for three long weeks.

Your phone had been burning a metaphorical hole in your pocket all morning as you packed and repacked and repacked again. Anything to avoid addressing that thing you said you would do. 

In the 12 hours since the creation of your profile, your phone had been dinging occasionally, prompting you to mute it. Every time you thought about addressing any messages, you found some invisible dirt that just kept reappearing on your floor and needed to be cleaned. 

Damn invis-dirt.

Sighing, you accepted that this should be put off no longer. 

You knew what Alphy’s and Undyne wanted you to get out of the whole experience, but it was time to ask yourself openly, and honestly what did _you_ want out of this? You categorized your thoughts numerically. 

_One. To make those two happy. I mean really. At the end of the day, this was a glorified texting app. A bit of a nuisance to have to learn and create a habit around interacting with them on it, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a small price to pay._

_Two. Boredom relief._

The last time you forgot to bring a book on a work trip was hell. Every hotel pamphlet - read and memorized. Hotel restaurant menu? Memorized each dish and cost _with_ GST thank you very much. 

Eventually, in an act of desperation, you had settled for reading the ever-present bible with its flimsy pages. To this day you’re still unsure why all of Deuteronomy was ripped out that one time. 

_Three. To make Friends._

“Oh God, do I actually want to make more friends?” you asked yourself. “Friends are work.”

The image of Undynde punchin tomatoes in your kitchen popped in your head. “ _HARD_ work. Plus I like the friends I have. But I suppose app friends are like plants that I don’t have to water, because surely if they’ve survived this long without me in their lives, they’ll be alright.” 

The soft patter of rain pulled you from your musing. Long enough to feel like you were procrastinating again. You took a deep breath and counted the five. 

“I will give it a week. Seven days, the old college try, and if it doesn’t assert itself smoothly into my routine and benefit me in any way, I’ll get rid of it. Like everything else in my life that is new and different and requires commitment.” 

_What's the worst that can happen?_

You drummed your fingernails on the phone’s case, waiting for the app to load. 

“Ok. I’m gonna swipe yes on the first fifty people. No judgment based on looks or anything like that. And if it all goes to shit after that I can at least say I tried and add this to the list of Alphys’ top ten terrible ideas.”

“…. Right up there with putting a ping pong table on the skating rink.”

Yakety App opened with a familiar jingle and you begin to traverse the layout. There were two pending friend requests, from both Alphys and Undyne and you promptly accepted them. 

There was also a notification for an invite to the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie server Alphy’s had been talking about. You accepted the invite, typing a quick hello to the mod who greeted you, and left with a promise to post in the ‘Ranting about Kissy Cutie Two’ channel later.

Ten seconds later you found the “Find Friends” button and after mistakingly flicking the first profile that sprang up to the left, you began to flick the remaining 49 to the right.

“Alright phase one, complete-”

_Bing Bing Bring_

TheJerry wants to talk.

Dildo_Baggins wants to talk.

‘KetchupDaw101 wants to talk.

You hesitated, quite surprised to have received three messaged so quickly, but they must have swiped on you earlier and you matched with them just now. At least one of these was probably going to go horribly wrong. 

“As the saying goes: in for a penny, in for a pounding.”

___________________________________________________________________________

**TheJerry** : Hi there. You’re a baby, are you? By chance is baby looking for a big strong Daddy? I can teach you how to ride a bike and then teach you how to ride this---

____________________________________________________________________________

Delete. 

Delete delete delete. 

Should probably uninstall. And maybe get a full frontal lobotomy. You began to weep internally. All of your life choices, including obtaining a master’s in biology with a minor in environmental sciences had led you to this moment. 

The whole making friends thing appeared to be going _great._

You did not have high hopes for Dildo. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**Dildo_Baggins:** Hello fellow chalk enthusiast! I must say I was delighted to read that in your profile. I don’t meet too many of those. I hope we become friends and can trade some tips! 

Have a lovely day!

____________________________________________________________________________

If you were a betting person you would have lost a lot of money on that one. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : wut do u get when y cross a baby with a soldier

**KecthupDawg101** : infantry

____________________________________________________________________________

You snorted and put your phone down. “Ok, that was decent.” You pondered as to whether or not smiley faces were beneath you, concluding that they were and typed out your response. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**IsBaby** : My wonderful name, besmirched. I hope you are happy Sir, madam, and or dog. Now I have to change it. 

____________________________________________________________________________

You had to admit, as weird as that stared off, it wasn’t all bad. A week, you reminded yourself. Just a week. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain began to fall in earnest by the time you parked outside Sans’ and Papyrus’ house. With a hustle in your step, you ran up to their porch and fished a key out of your pocket, though you fully expected the door to be unlocked. Which you discovered it was after some formality knocks. 

“Do I smell popcorn?” you asked while talking off your shoes and unceremoniously dumping your bag in the boot room. The familiar aroma of butter and slightly burnt corn wafted from the kitchen. A brief stroll into the said kitchen revealed Sans in a snuggie on his tiptoes removing a brown paper bag from the microwave with a blackened bottom. 

“yup. burnt in fact. just the way nobody likes it.” 

“Don’t you just use the popcorn function on the microwave? It’s literally idiot-proof.” 

“It would be,” a glance over your shoulder revealed Papyrus in a suit with two briefcases, “if some idiot hadn’t stripped the microwave for parts and then reassembled it using electronics from a Furby.” 

“com’ on paps you know they don’t let me into the eco station anymore. and i’ve never once paid shipping fees in my life, and i do not plan to start now.”

“Regardless, the machine now has a mind of its own. It can heat something with the intensity of an active volcano in seven seconds or barely thaw food left in there for ten minutes.” 

You palmed your face, trying to suppress a laugh. “Oh my God, typical Sans.” 

After a fresh bag of popcorn was added to the microwave, the idiot in question turned to face the both of you, one brow bone cocked. “I take it you’re no longer joining us bro?”

“I’m afraid not, I have business at the embassy tonight. I’ll be there late. Though I do hope you two enjoy yourselves.” 

“Stay safe Papyrus.”

“have fun punching the clock.”

Papyrus acknowledged you with a smile. “I will. And my job entails no punching Sans. Clocks or otherwise. Good night you two.” 

“Goodnight.”

Just as Papyrus left, the popcorn kernels began to pop. Sans shuffled on his feet waiting for the exact moment to save the snack from another fiery fate. By what standard he measured the doness given the last bag, you were not sure. 

“Did you pick the genre for tonight?”

“no, it’s your turn. dice and list are on the table.” He didn’t spare you a glance. 

True to his word, a sheet of loose-leaf paper numbered one through six with movie genres was on the table, as well as a single six-sided die. 

Without reading the list you rolled the die. “Hmm, number four is… aw sweet. Cronenburg! Body horror and burnt popcorn; awesome. Can we start with The Thing? Alphy’s recommended it.”

“sure _thing_ buddy. by the way, how is old alph these days? how’s her stutter doing.”

You responded while scratching out the fourth line on the list. “It’s still there, but not as much. Mostly bs and ms. Occasional ws.”

The microwave signaled the end of the cooking period, not with a typical beep but, to your horror, with a grainy, modular sounding ‘bring bring bring’ and then a creepy robotic chuckle.

“Holy shit you really _did_ fuse the microwave with a Furby. How has Papyrus not disowned you yet?”

He simply shrugged and removed the bag, dumping its contents into a large bowl before walking to the living room. 

“Jesus fucking christ that is messed up,” you muttered under your breath before catching up to him and yanking the bowl from his hands. 

Once you two were settled in on the chesterfield, Sans magiced the lights off and started up the movie. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of flicks into the night, the newly dubbed “Furbowave” spoke up all on its own with it’s creepy, grainy Furby voice. Luckily it happened during a quiet scene in the movie so you could still vaguely hear it proclaim “me scared” from the kitchen for maximum terror. 

After the initial shock, you glared at Sans. “Does it seriously just speak on its own at random intervals?”

Sans sighed and adjusted his snuggie. “yeah. took some time for paps and me to get accustomed to that. you barely notice it after a while. so… are you still spending the night?”

“Uh, hell no. Unless you want me peeing in fear on the hide a bed for a second time.” 

As if to further prove your point, the furbowave responded with a distant ‘whooooaaah.’

Yep. Definitely not staying the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late when the final credits rolled onto the screen and the human drove home. They left with the promise of donating a non-cursed microwave to the household, and Sans with the promise of popping by their place to tend to the plants. For once Sans was going to make good on watering the plants since he worded it as a promise this time.

The last two times his friend had any extended time away from home Sans said he didn't mind looking after those things, but ended putting it off and then eventually forgetting. Luckily nothing died since his buddy knew him well enough to leave self-watering balls in the more finicky plants should Sans forget. 

Sans was surprised they still trusted him with their plants at all given that one time when he brought over Taco Bell and absentmindedly fed some of the taco beef to their venus fly trap. Took exactly seven and a half hours for the thing to die. You weren't even that upset at the loss, to preoccupied with trying to comprehend his thought process behind feeding fast food to a carnivorous plant.

Mistakenly you had shared the news of the death with Papyrus in passing and it all went uphill from there. A brief memorial had been held at Papyrus' insistence that losing a plant friend was still a loss. He even supplied a great big bowl of grieving spaghetti to eat after the service which ended with him, Alphy’s and Undyne awkwardly saying some nice words to a plant none of them cared about, then you simply throwing the poor bastard in the compost. 

All in all, it was a really strange day, but you seemed to appreciate the gesture none the less. Like everything in life, you just shrugged it off and carried on with ether laugh of a shake of your head. You were mellow. He respected that. 

That’s why your friendship worked. You both cared enough to put in just enough effort to be friends without being clingy to one another. 

If either of you needed something, great. You’d help out. 

If not, even better. 

Sans kicked off his slippers and hopped up on his mattress, settling in and pulling out his phone. He had sent a few messages, not really expecting any replies, and truthfully hoping he’d receive none so he could continue putting in minimal effort. 

His phone was on silent for the movie, so he missed the chime of Yakety App’s message notification. 

A name that took him a full day to realize was wordplay. He hated the whole thing a fraction less because of it. 

But still hated it.

Just as he had promised, Sans made the effort to reach out to three people. Any more and he might overdose on ‘trying hard.’ Something that he had been telling Paps for years could happen. 

It seemed one of the shmucks had responded. 

“alright, what poor soul is talkin’ to me?”

True to their world, the name had been changed, Sans snickered. This wasn’t a horrible first greeting. Continuing on with his brother’s instance, Sans tried to add at least a bit of proper grammar. 

Spelling be damned though. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**IsBaby** : My wonderful name, besmirched. I hope you are happy Sir, madam, and or dog. Now I have to change it. 

**IsBlueDaaBaDee** : I hope you are unable to continue on with life, knowing the distress you've caused me. 

**KetchupDawg101** : hey there i didn’t mean 2 make ya sad. may b u prefer more filosfical things.

 **KetchupDawg101** : 2 be is 2 do. socrates.

 **KetchupDawg101** : 2 do is 2 be. john paul satre

 **KetchupDawg101** : do be do be do. Sinatra

____________________________________________________________________________

Sans set his phone aside and fell asleep with exactly zero thoughts in his head.

tbc


	4. If Secrets Were Friends I'd be More Popular Than You.

“two jumbo dogs, one on white, one on whole wheat.”

“Thank you so much. Have a good day.”

Sans watched as the two ladies he served walked away without adding any condiments whatsoever. When they were out of earshot he started to pull various bottles of ketchup and mustard off his popup table and place them into a cooler, muttering words of disapproval under his breath. 

It was disgraceful to eat a plain hot dog, but they tipped, so technically they could commit whatever crimes against the universe they wanted. 

Sans had been trying to close down his stand for the past half hour but the beautiful weather brought people out to the park in spades. Every time he started to put condiments away some hungry soul came by with an itch that only he, (and the other hundred or so people who sold hot dogs in this city) could scratch.

A glance around the park told him the coast was clear and this was his moment to start packing up lest someone else stop him yet again, and Sans began the process of shutting down for the day. 

Part of that process involved eating all but two of the hot dogs that didn’t sell. Some days that was a lot of tube meat. Was that gross? Maybe, but Sans wasn’t about to tell anyone. Some secrets you just had to take to your grave. 

And Sand had a lot of secrets. 

He liked to think that meant he’d never be lonely in death. What with all the juicy secrets to keep him company. 

Like a classy gent would, Sans counted his money with half a Weiner sticking from his mouth, fingers deftly adding the excessive quarters into a roll before closing up the pencil-case-turned-cash-box. 

Once the money was safely stowed away, the cart locked down and all perishables packed in his wheelie cooler, Sans took the remaining hotdogs, added an excessive amount of relish to them, and began the walk to the secluded alleyway that he used to take his shortcuts home. 

It didn’t take long to get to the alley and he spotted the familiar green dumpster. And from behind that dumpster were two familiar long legs with fraying brown shoes. That seemed to be worn on the wrong feet.

“Hello magic man!”

“hey donovan.”

Sans reached down and offered up the two hotdogs to the human sitting on the pavement. After a moment the human slowly reached out to take them before setting them aside. Sans had met Donovan last spring, initially alarmed to find him sleeping in the alley after work one day.

Sans had hesitated; nervous to risk shortcutting in front of the guy, and nervous to leave him lying on the ground. After a gentle foot nudge Donovin had woken up and began talking about all the worldly chaos caused by changing the animals printed on the country’s monetary coins. 

“It used to be twenty ticks a dollar, but now you can’t say that no more! People look at you funny. You wanted change for a five? You asked for a mongoose and two cassowaries. That didn’t work for The Man. They lurked in the shadows and pulled the rug out from under us. Now nobody knows what’s up and what’s north! Nobody knows!”

Sans tried to politely follow along and process what was happening, but before he could get a question in, the man fell back asleep, unaware or uncaring about the skeletal presence in front of him. 

After an awkward moment Sans had deemed it safe to shortcut home despite the human lying in front of him. Curiosity brought Sans back to the same alley the next day and the human was indeed there again, leaning against some cardboard boxes. Then he was there the day after that. And the day after that. 

He was clearly homeless, but the way he carried himself Sans wasn’t sure if _he_ knew he was homeless. The man was always pleasant to Sans when he was awake, and didn’t once question Sans’ ability to teleport. After a week Sans learned his name and had been offering him up extra hotdogs ever since. 

“Ah, thank you. How was your day?"

“same as always pal.”

“See you tomorrow magic man?”

“same dog time. same dog channel.” 

Sans took a peek behind him and gave Donovan a wave before blipping from the alley to his back yard. He tucked his cart in the garage and took one final shortcut inside the house; aiming for the living room chesterfield. He landed in place with a soft bounce,( _nailed it_ ), before turning on his phone. 

Finally having a quiet moment to himself, Sans was eager to check to see if the new app person had messaged him and changed their username name yet again.

The first few interactions with them were simple. Sans would make a name-based joke and they would groan or banter back, before inevitably changing their username. But lately the two of them had moved on to having full-on real-people conversations. 

Speaking of which.

____________________________________________________________________________

**IsThatATaco** : Good evening.

 **KetchupDawg101** : Sorry for the late reply. Was swamped at work 

**IsThatATaco** :Hey, funny thing. Me too. Literally.

____________________________________________________________________________

_Ok, that’s a bit weird. ___

__

_______________________________________________________________________________ _

__

__**KetchupDawg101** : k u gota tell me, how do u keep changn ur name? i thot you can only do dat once. _ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Yeah, only once if you finalize your app profile. If you don’t you can still use the app, but you’re limited to 50 swipes in a day. There might be more limitations?  
Anyways. I always decline whenever the button pops up. So my app works as if I’m still creating my user profile and I can change the name as many times as I want._ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Ergo why I am IsThatATaco today. _ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : Is it?_ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Is what?_ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : Is that a taco?_ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Umm no it’s more like a durian. _ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : a wut now?_ _

__**IsThatATaco** : It’s like if the devil and nightmares made a fruit baby._ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : is it com n where u live? _ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Nope. _ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : wut is com n fud?_ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Hot dogs. This city is obsessed with them. Anyways, speaking about work earlier. What is your job?_ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : do u want the truth, r smthing cool. _ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Both?_ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : at night i run my side bzness, sellin glow n the dark sunglasses n inflatable anchors. Truth b told we r not doin so well. it’s hard t keep my bzness afloat._ _

__**IsThatATaco** : …_ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : but by day ima hot dog salesman._ _

__**IsThatATaco** : That just sounds weird. _ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : uh, obvs. they r oxymorons._ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Pshh. No. I mean the hot dog salesman part. Have you got a pencil mustache and wear a snakeskin blazer and offer ladies a taste of your meaty weiner? _ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : not since the third lawsuit._ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Ha. Ok hot dogs are good but do you have a veggie option?_ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : ya y? r you u vegetarian?_ _

__**IsThatATaco** : No, but I’d rather eat the anus of a carrot than the anus of a pig._ _

_______________________________________________________________________________ _

__

__“What the hell?” Sans didn’t try to contain his laughter. Fake meat didn’t even have carrots in it to begin with, but that wasn't the point._ _

__

_______________________________________________________________________________ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : wtf?_ _

__**IsThatATaco** : I’m just saying, if people were meant to eat hog dogs we wouldn’t have brains in which to fathom how profoundly disgusting the process of making a hot dog is._ _

__**KetchupDawg101** : don’t think, just consume._ _

__**IsThatATaco** : Ah, spoken like conservative cable television broadcasters._ _

_______________________________________________________________________________ _

__Sans put his phone down momentarily and pulled his snuggie off of the back of the chesterfield and draped it across his body, too lazy to work his arms through the sleeves. Normally he would nap when he got home; exhausted by the end to even a light day’s work. Right now he could barely keep his eyes open_ _

__But damned if he wasn’t enjoying himself and didn’t want to miss out whatever the heck this conversation was._ _

__No, he was only going to rest his eyes for a few minutes._ _

__

__~~~~~~~~~_ _

__

__When sans woke up it was at his brother's gentle prodding, encouraging him to come to eat supper which was now ready. Sans sprang up, slightly annoyed that he had fallen asleep mid-conversation but walked to the kitchen trailing behind his brother._ _

__He responded to a “what the fuck”, Venn diagram they sent him before digging into his food._ _

__And if Papyrus, seeing Sans fully immersed in whatever conversation he was having felt like telling him “I told you so,” well he kept that to himself._ _

__The date today ended in a five, which meant their supper had to involve some sort of oddly shaped pasta. It was a tradition neither one remembered starting. Like Halfway to Halloween in April or walking to get slushies on the first snowfall. It was just something they did now._ _

__Today’s menu involved panda-shaped pasta smothered in half pesto, half bolognese. Sans snapped a picture of it before sending it off in the app._ _

__“So Sans, it seems as though you’ve met a new friend. Is it safe to assume it’s going well?”_ _

__“yeah, it’s ok. i’ve mostly just been talking to one person though.”_ _

__Papyrus nodded, satisfied with the results so far. Even one person is a step in the right direction._ _

__“That’s nice to hear brother. Tell me a bit about them.”_ _

__Sans looked up from his phone, distracted by the question. “uhh, we kinda just met Paps.”_ _

__“But surely you’ve learned something?”_ _

__Sans glanced at his phone as if the answer would jump out from his screen. They had not yet swapped real names or disclosed their locations. Or much of anything about themselves. Not that Sans was jumping at the bit to share much about himself either._ _

__But he did learn that they spoke fluent sarcasm and seemed to be pretty outdoorsy._ _

__“they like nature?” Sans offered up weakly. “spends a lot of time outdoors i think. probably has a busy day job, since they never post anything until after 5.”_ _

__Truthfully that was all Sans could offer up, but it seemed enough for Papyrus._ _

__“Well alright then. There is no need to help with the dishes tonight Sans. You should go straight to bed. You seem more tired than usual.”_ _

__“do i?”_ _

__“Yes. Your eyes are fuzzy around the edges. You didn’t even stir when I came home. And I was rather noisy, not realizing you were sleeping in the living room. Don’t stay up late talking to this new friend of yours, ok?” Papyrus gave him a look he hoped was stern._ _

__Sans’ smile grew wider on his face. “yeah, you're right, paps. thanks for looking out for me. you’re the coolest bro.”_ _

__“I know. I have the mug to prove it.”_ _

__

__~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__

__Despite his brother’s wishes, Sans may have stayed up a little bit later than she should have that night. Taco was spouting off about how much they hated their local weatherman and Sans could relate on a cellular level._ _

__It may have been creeping close to midnight by the time sleep overtook him, but he wasn’t going to tell. It was just one more secret to keep him company in the afterlife._ _

__

__tbc_ _


	5. Where do all These Daddies Keep Coming From?

All the hours of the day dragged on as if you were in some time stasis where the second hand of the clock made its audible tick but only seemed to tock once every fifteen seconds, plunging you in a never-ending workday. 

Not that you didn’t love your job but today you just weren’t feeling it. 

The day so far was sweltering with not so much as a second of cloudy reprieve from the sun. Not that you were bothered by that. Surely hot and dry proved more advantageous than cold and wet while you worked. 

And if you looked crazy to the passing eye, decked out in long plaid sleeves and denim tucked into boots? Well, you were indeed isolated so hypothetical judgment be damned. Horseflies were in season and you’d be a fool to show any skin in hopes of enjoying a cool breeze. All you’d get would be nasty little bites for your troubles. 

That and the smell of sunscreen was disgusting and you avoided using it at all costs. After all, you can’t burn what the sun can’t see. 

Your watch beeped, signaling for a water break and you silenced it before eagerly indulging in the last of dregs of the bottle as you began to settle down on the ground.

One very loud and exaggerated yawn and stretch later, you pulled out your phone. There was no way for you to really use it, any signal where your site was located was nonexistent. In fact, you had to carry a radio in order to communicate with the team, and a specialized walkie talkie was kept in your truck to use in case of an emergency.

Your phone was more used to pass the time re-reading old messages with your new friend. KetchupDawg’s presence had worked its way into most of your evenings. They were undeniably fun to talk to. And this whole username tirade thing you had going on was the highlight to the end of your day; even if his puns were awful. 

Speaking of puns…

You hadn’t been talking to Sans as much. You still sent your meme of the day to him and received either a thumbs up or down icon for your troubles, but admittedly any in-depth conversations you had were now on Yakety App. 

KetchupDawg’s writing did remind you of Sans, but that man wouldn’t be caught dead using an actual question mark. He took proper punctuation as a personal offense and had somehow dodged the grammar police his whole life. 

And by grammar police you meant Papyrus. 

You checked the time again. Technically you had obtained more than enough samples for the day, and the initial tests you ran on-site did reveal large traces of heavy metals. Your days' findings had long since been documented and were ready to be sent off. Really, the only real reason to stick around was in case your supervisor came to your site to check in on you, which he hadn't once in the two weeks you had been working.

“Oh to hell with it.” 

You dusted yourself off before hastily but carefully packing up your equipment. It’s not likely you would get caught for leaving early. 

When your truck was packed you tossed your phone in the back seat, casting it aside like the distraction it was. 

The trip back to the hotel would feel quicker without your phone burning a hole in your pocket. 

But once you were there….

____________________________________________________________________________

 **IsolatedByMyself** : How are you today?

 **KetchupDawg101** : 1 word. tautology. 

**IsolatedByMyself** : Hey don’t you tautology me mister! 

**IsolatedByMyself** : Mister? Ma’am? Dogster? Whatever. Usernames live in the realm of giveth-no-fuckeths. 

**KetchupDawg101** : it’s mister.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Missed her? I barely know her! 

**IsolatedByMyself** : Haha! I’m learning. 

**IsolatedByMyself** : Oh god. A questionable outside force is influencing me, send help! 

**KetchupDawg101** : foolish mortal, uv allrdy sucumed 2 faze 1.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Bold of you to assume I’m mortal.

 **KetchupDawg101** : o?

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Technically I’m immortal until proven otherwise.

 **KetchupDawg101** : yes! hypothesis time.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Did you just volunteer to murder me? 

**KetchupDawg101** : volunteered 2 documnt the results o ur demise. dun have 2 pull the trigger.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : A gun? Aww, can’t it be nicer?

 **KetchupDawg101** : k, how u wanna die?

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Honestly? Dying of embarrassment. Presumably everything leading up to that death would make for a good story. 

**KetchupDawg101** : ……..

 **KetchupDawg101** : wut if it's a gun dat says sumthin nice before it shoots u?

 **IsolatedByMyself** : I suppose that would be kind of embarrassing. Sure. The compliment gun it is. But on one condition. It needs to have googly eyes. 

____________________________________________________________________________

He didn’t respond for a while, not that he was obligated to, and it gave you time to do some more work.

Your phone chimed almost an hour later, signaling a message sent from KetchupDawg. He sent you a picture of spaghetti.

~~~~

Sans had spent his entire evening curled up in bed waiting for his social media buddy to get online. This was becoming normal for him. The mention of googly eyes just now had his eye lights darting to his closet. Somewhere inside was an old friend that Sans had forgotten about, and he now fought down the cocktail of emotions the thought evoked. Shame should have been the biggest one… 

But it wasn’t. 

He could hear his brother banging around in the kitchen downstairs and knew his room time would be short-lived, but for now he was having fun. 

There was a loud knock at his door. 

_Very_ short lived it would seem. 

“Who's there?” Sans called out. 

"I knocked exactly five times brother! The joke only calls for two. Now come and eat.”

Sans hurried along. The quicker he ate the sooner he could focus again on talking to his friend. Papyrus had recently enacted a strict no phones during dinner policy so they could talk more since Sans was apparently more distracted these days. 

It wasn’t too bad really. Sans was happy to hear his brother gush about whatever was going on at the embassy, especially since Papyrus had long stopped pestering him to try and get a job there. 

After dinner Papyrus stood up and retrieved a small bowl of spaghetti from the counter and offered it to Sans. “Here. For pictures for your friend.”

He gave no further explanation and simply brandished the bowl again as if its purpose was obvious. 

“ok you’ve lost me bro.”

Papyrus sighed and set the bowl down. He used air quotations to punctuate his sentence; ever the worldly teacher to his poor uninformed brother. “Make sure you send them some ‘noods’. It’s all the rage these days online.”

Sans barely muttered out a ‘thanks’ before blipping into his bedroom, fingers already working away to pick up the previous conversation and send the picture while trying to suppress his laughter. 

Anytime his bro punned on purpose he was proud. But when he unintentionally punned about things he had no idea about, it was hilarious.

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : holy shit. bro wants me 2 show u his noods.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Lmfao what the heck? Is your brother coming on to me? Or is he just rubbing it in my face that your dinner is better than mine?

 **KetchupDawg101** : don’t care. its hilarious. 

____________________________________________________________________________

~~~~~~~~

You had tried to resume working bit by bit throughout the night, plugging entries away into a spreadsheet, if only to pass the time, but gave up after 5 mistakes in a row. 

You were fully immersed in your conversations _again_ and there was no point denying it. 

Talking to him was becoming the highlight of your day and the slight change in your attitude was quickly picked up by Alphys and Undyne. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**Muscles4Days** : For all your sniveling earlier you sure use this a lot punk. And you seem to be enjoying it.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Yeah yeah. I can taste the smugness from here Undyne. Anyways, Alphys, I just wanted to say thank you for suggesting this.

 **IsolatedByMyself** : My time away from home has been far more enjoyable, and I can admit that you were right.

 **Muscles4Days** : That WE were right. 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : Aw, thanks. I’m happy it’s working out for you. 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : Have you met many people?

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Just the guys in the Mew Mew Server and two others. I only really talk to the one though. I think you’d like him.

 **Muscles4Days** : What about me?

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Anyways, when I get back to the city I’ll take you to that anime cafe that opened up to show my gratitude. 

**Muscles4Days** : Hey I practically made your profile. Don’t I get any thanks?! D:<

 **Mew_Mew_Lover** : That’s sweet. You don’t have to, but I’d love to go there. I’m looking forward to it <3

 **IsolatedByMyself** : Then it’s a date. Goodnight Alphys. 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : Goodnight!! =^_^=

____________________________________________________________________________

You got more incoming texts from your three-way chat, but you pointedly ignored them all. You had a suspicious feeling that Undyne, ever the trickster, would totally muck around with your profile if given the chance, and it was fun to annoy her from a safe distance away. 

The remainder of your night involved chatting with KetchupDawg and deleting the regular stream of messages you received from people that you matched with that offered (in no subtle terms) to be your Daddy. Seriously, it was every day with these people. 

Maybe it was time to stop swiping.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning was awful. 

You stayed up way too late talking online and just now, in your sleep-addled state you poured maple syrup on your eggs and ketchup on your pancakes. A lovely start. Hopefully you could successfully acquire coffee without spiking it with butter. 

Once the breakfast buffet was successfully traversed, you settled in at a free table, cupping your coffee in your hands waiting for it to cool down. The rest of the team was not down yet and you thanked your lucky stars for the brief moment to yourself. 

Then through the steam of the coffee you could see your project supervisor walk into the serving room. He looked to be scanning the room and once his eyes met yours he beelined over to you. 

_Very_ brief it would seem. 

“It’s too early for you to need something from me.” You whispered under your breath before attempting to perk up and straighten your posture at his arrival. 

Jason Richard Pierce, the beloved supervisor for all of Region Seven looked every bit like a movie star; short, curly, dirty-blonde locks framed his angular, sharp face. He had bright blue eyes, a light dusting of freckles, and a winning smile that the few ladies on the team swooned over. 

In typical fashion he sauntered over to you as if he was walking on a catwalk and not in a cheap hotel. A man of average height who always acted like the tallest person in the room. 

He had confidence. You could give him that. And right now you were confident that he was about to bust you for leaving your post early. 

“Good morning. I trust you slept well with all that extra time on your hands?”

 _Called it._

“Good morning. Look, Jason.”

“Ah ah ah. Please, call me Dick.” 

“ _Dick_ , I’m sorry I left my station early. My group radio died and it didn’t seem important enough to use the emergency radio just to say I was done for the day. Because honestly I felt that my time would be better served inside writing up my reports. Which you may have noticed, were sent not long after I left.”

Dick sighed and pressed his palms down on your table, leaning in closer to you. “You’ve been with us long enough to know protocols exist for your safety.”

The thought crossed your mind that you had been working for Ebott forestry for five years before he was assigned to your region, and the way he said ‘us’ was grating, but you swallowed that thought down with a bit of too-hot coffee. 

“And that is my number one priority here. I expect you to help me help you. Imagine the stress I felt when I showed up and could not find any sign of you. I’m simply left there to wonder if you got attacked by an animal. There are lots of bears in the area you know." 

_Bears that know how to drive trucks? Fancy that!_

“Yes, and I imagine the biggest grievance is having driven out to my site, only to feel like your time has been wasted. I’m truly sorry for _that_ , and it won’t happen again.” 

“Oh I imagine not. Especially when we finish here and move out to Hillside Springs next month.” 

You did not like the implicating tone his voice took. 

“Hillside Springs? That place rings no bells.” 

Dick stood up from your table and crossed his arms, a slight smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “Doesn’t surprise me. It’s a remote location. The closest place to it is a hamlet about a four hour drive East. The county has called us to…”

You tuned him out, realizing just what he was implying. 

Oh no. _Oh no!_ Remote locations always meant camping and camping meant you needed a-

“Partner.” Dick finished the word for you. “Everyone else is already stationed and it seems I have to step up for this assignment and do some fieldwork so you don't work alone. I’m looking forward to it.” 

You saw him notice for the first time your breakfast of choice. A look of disgust crossed his face.

Good. Hopefully if he thinks you have terrible taste in everything he won’t try and be chummy. You cut off a large piece of pancake and made a show of enjoying it.

“Mmmm… so good. Ketchup just goes with everything, don’t you think? Well, thanks for the heads up, Dick.” 

He nodded and left, still grimacing as he began walking to stand in line at the buffet while the rest of the team made their way down for breakfast. 

Once safely out of earshot you groaned. “It’ll be great having you around in case a bear tries to run me over.”

You picked up your phone and texted Sans to apologize for criticizing his way of eating pancakes. You had to admit, it wasn’t really that bad, and certainly wasn’t the worst part of your morning.

tbc


	6. Is it a Small Bread Box?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice breakers and more dinner.  
> Methinks Sans' routine is predictable.

The moment you crossed the threshold into your apartment you felt more at ease. Your home was brightly lit with the midday sun and all around you were familiar pops of greens and whites. At first glance, it seemed none of the plants had died. 

The pile of unsorted mail that sat on your counter tipped you off that Sans had been over at least once while you were away. 

While your plants could feasibly survive without you, the real kicker was having your mail brought in. 

The apartment boxes were tiny and the mail lady was not above adding sticky notes with various degrees of frowny faces whenever the box was getting too full for her to continue adding mail without (probably intentionally) squishing the bills. 

And three weeks away made for a lot of junk flyers.

Once all your luggage was lugged to your room, you snagged said flyers from the counter, and sank down into your favorite chair. 

You had a microwave to find. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, this one pulls out all the stops. First off, it’s sleek with this smooth chrome finish that will match your stove. It has fifteen different defrost options, one of which specifically includes hotdogs, so I immediately thought of you.” 

Sans scrutinized the flyer you had brought with you to the park where he was working. He merely offered up a “looks nice.”

“It has a three-year warranty too, but it doesn’t cover in-home, ‘ _repairs_ ’, so ya know, try not to lobotomize _this_ microwave too.” 

Sans chuckled and rested his head on his fist. “you know you don’t have to get us a microwave, right?”

“Yeah, and you didn’t have to get my mail. But I still appreciate it.” 

The conversation died off naturally when Sans went back to work, focused on whipping up a jumbo spicy dog for a man in a suit carrying three briefcases. 

Enough time went by for your mind to wander while you pursued amongst the various bottles of condiments.

It was nice to see Sans today. He was a much-needed distraction. Your first full day back home had been spent trying to avoid thinking about the coming work assignment, but no amount of reading, cleaning, or movies could occupy your mind for long. 

All the joys of camping dried up at the thought of the company you’d be keeping at work. And if you were being honest, going a week without talking to Ketchup was going to be a huge bummer. 

And Sans, of course. But also Ketchup.

Absentmindedly you grabbed a bottle of sweet mayo from the condiment table and added it to the small remainder of your veggie dog and finished it with a satisfied grunt. 

A minute later the businessman set down his briefcases before asking you if the sweet mayo was any good.

“It’s not bad. I wouldn’t just eat it on its own though.”

Talking your advice he squirted on two rows of the mayo and one row of dijon ketchup before balancing all of his items precariously as he walked away.

“hey,” Sans called, grabbing your attention. “it’s not good to keep feelings _bottled up._ something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” 

You simply shrugged.

“you know you can talk to me. it’s not like i can go anywhere.” he gestured to his stand with both arms.

Your small laugh was half-assed. “Heh, false, you can go anywhere in the blink of an eye. Alright, buckle up Sansy.”

You cleared your throat and proceeded to vent. "So this small county in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere is considering putting in a road to one of the more accessible valleys by the mountains. In order for anyone to engineer this road we need to map out the potential locations and any hazards that exist. Basically measuring the geological conditions. It’s all super fun. But because the location we’re mapping is four hours from the nearest hamlet, we have to camp at our work site. Which means I cannot work alone. And I have now learned that I’ve been partnered up with Dick." 

“dick? is this the guy who came down on your for hosting an in work party once a month for birthdays? who nixed the whole thing?”

"You bet your sweet bippy.”

“the same one who told you that all work correspondence had to adhere to a level of professionalism that didn’t involve using my rock puns?”

“The same.”

“i thought his name was jason.”

“But he goes by Dick.“

“so he’s an asshole?”

“No, asshole is a bit strong. He’s got more of a jackass vibe? But depending on who you asked I have the unpopular opinion.”

You took a moment to check your surroundings, lest the man of the hour happened upon you. 

“He’s pretty well-loved by all the ladies expect Meridith and Jo. Most of the dudes are buddy-buddy with him. I guess he’s charming? And handsome, with adequate managerial skills? But I’ve never once seen him get his hands dirty. And now I have to work with him in a remote location for nine days. Camping with him as my partner is going to suck and I’m not looking forward to it at all. Gah. I don’t know why I hate this so much.”

In typical fashion, your rant was getting away from you, but Sans never interjected. He just waited patiently for you to finish. 

“I mean, I don’t like him, but not because he’s a bad person or has really done anything wrong for me to not like him. And that makes me feel kinda shitty, but combined with the fact that I’m not obligated to like anyone, I guess I somehow manage to sleep at night. I just….”

“hey, don’t read too much into it pal. any man who insists they be called dick is probably one. would another veggie dog lighten the mood?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I think it would.”

Ah, Sans. good old (semi) reliable Sans. The friend who will always let you talk his ears off and couldn’t be bothered to judge you for it. He was truly a kind and patient soul. Much too good for you if you were being honest with yourself.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry I wasn’t talking too much on this last trip.”

Sans waved your concerns away with a lazy flick of his wrist as he pulled a veggie dog off the grill, slipped it into a bun, and handed it off. “buddy, don’t give it another thought. you were busy. i get it. i take zero offense when you choose to put your job and the subsequent paycheck over gushing to me about rocks every day.”

“I do not gush about rocks.” 

“sediment. sorry. besides, i know you get pretty, _sedimental_ about your work.”

“I’m gonna eat this hot dog now so I can’t respond to that. Hmmm hm hm hmmmm…” 

Two monsters cautiously approached what would be the start of a line behind you. One gave a quiet ‘excuse me’ and you quickly moved to the side with a slight bow, mumbling an apology around your dog. They ordered and Sans got to work. He made some idle chat with them about their day before hopping down from his cart when they left. He walked over to you, hand splayed for a hug.

“You look like you could use one of these.”

There he was ladies and gentlemen. A pure being who wouldn’t hurt a fly. You brought it in without hesitation. This right here was the good shit. 

“Thank you Sans. I feel better already. Sorry my visit today was mostly me bitching.”

“seriously, don’t worry about it. it’s not like you haven’t done the same for me. i know for a fact you’ve heard every bad thing i’ve had to say about my old boss before i left and started selling hotdogs on my own terms.”

You nodded and nuzzled a bit closer into his signature blue hoodie, the sweet and tangy smell of ketchup hung off him like cologne, and you subtly inhaled, as to not give it away that you were indeed smelling him like a creep. 

It’s not your fault that the smell of ketchup just worked on him. And it was platonic sniffs. Nothing else. 

“we’re lucky to have each other. now cheer up and eat your dog.”

~~~~~~~

That evening after work, Sans got a message that made his soul sink.

____________________________________________________________________________

**Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Hi Ketchup, I’m going to be very busy for a few days coming up and I won’t have my phone with me, so it’ll be radio silence on my end. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case you think I abandoned you and then you block me or something out of grief. 

**KetchupDawg101** : how long?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Nine days.

 **KetchupDawg101** : diner time. ttyl.

____________________________________________________________________________

Nine days, relative to a whole lifetime, (plus a little extra when you consider the accumulated hours of existence as a result of resets, but who in their right mind would _want_ to consider that?) was nothing. 

He knew this. 

But then why did the thought of not talking to them for over a week sound so shitty?

Sans was distracted during dinner that night. As per the new rules he was off his phone, but he was counting down the seconds until he could hop back on and enjoy speaking with his friend for the limited time that he had. 

His brother broke the silence.

“Sans, is everything alright? You seem dejected. Was work ok?”

“oh? ya it was fine. i dunno. just have something on my mind.”

Papyrus dabbed at his mouth with his napkin before setting it over his plate. “Well, you can tell me all about it. Maybe I can help.”

Sans highly doubted that, but it wasn’t like talking with his brother would hurt any. 

“that new friend of mine? they are going to be gone for a while and we won’t be able to talk. i didn’t press for details. they just said they wouldn’t have their phone on them. i guess I’m just...” 

“Disappointed?” Papyrus offered.

“yeah, more or less.”

He nodded in understand. “You must really enjoy chatting with them. I’m curious, what was it about their profile that first caught your eye?”

If Sans was being truthful, which he was only when it benefitted him, (current situation pending) he had never seen this friend’s profile. When Sans finally got around to reaching out and messaging on the app, he simply scrolled through the list that presented itself and swiped on people whose names he could think of a joke for. 

IsBaby just happened to fall into that category. 

He could only slowly blink at his brother. Unsure how to answer in a way that didn’t make him sound stupid.

“Well, what kind of monster are they? What do they do?”

More slow blinking.

“Really Sans? Did you even read their profile?”

“nope,” Sans quickly replied. “definitely did not. sorry bro, guess i’m a bit of a novice.”

“No matter. We can read it together now.”

“oh hey, that reminds me for some reason!” Sans jumped up from the kitchen table and blipped to his room. He returned with the flyer that had microwaves for sale. 

“it might be early gyftmas for us. my pal was looking into buying us one of these. uh, specifically this one.” Sans set the page down in front of his bother and tapped on the picture. 

“Wowie! There is no need for the human to buy us a microwave. Though I must say this looks like quite the appliance.” 

“why don’t you do some research into it while i clean up, ya? if there ends up being any bad reviews i can pass that info along.” 

“Good idea Sans!” Papyrus stood up and pushed in his chair before snagging the flyer. “Thank you for taking care of the dishes. I’ll let you know what my sleuthing reveals.”

As Sans cleaned up from dinner he wondered how to go about bringing up the topic at hand. Not that it really mattered, he told himself, but it would be nice to just know a bit more about who was on the receiving end of all his jokes. 

Truthfully Sans had wondered what kind of monster they were this whole time. The icon by the name gave no indication; it was simply a picture of a pair of sunglasses with crude smiley faces drawn on each lense.

When the last dish was placed in the washer, Sans went to his room to pick up where he had left off with his friend. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : diner time. ttyl.

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : I’m bored. When you get back let’s play a game. 

**Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Do you know 20 Questions?

 **KetchupDawg101** : no

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Hey! Welcome back!

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Ok, 20 Questions is where I think of a thing and then you have to try and guess what it is by only asking me yes or no questions. For example, people will often ask “Is it bigger than a bread box?”

 **KetchupDawg101** : 20? sounds like wrk.

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Then do it in 5. 

**KetchupDawg101** : K

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Alright. Ask away.

 **KetchupDawg101** : “Is it bigger than a bread box?”

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Did you just copy-paste what I wrote?

 **KetchupDawg101** : whos askn questions?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Fine. Yes.

 **KetchupDawg101** : is it edible?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Um… I suppose so. Yes. 

**KetchupDawg101** : wut dos it taste like?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : That’s not how this works. 

**KetchupDawg101** : does it taste sweet or sour?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Yes or no Ketchup. 

**KetchupDawg101** : do u think it taste gud? 

**Ishmael_NotFullMale** : No

 **KetchupDawg101** : is it beter eatn hot r cold?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : This was a mistake

 **KetchupDawg101** : is it a hotdog? cuz if it’s not i dont wanna play anymore.

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : OK this backfired stupendously. 

**Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Congratulations. You continue to ruin everything. It was a tree.

 **KetchupDawg101** : hey. cn i ask a persnal question?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : You certainly can. 

**KetchupDawg101** : wut kind o monster r u?

____________________________________________________________________________

The response time was long enough to make Sans start to feel nervous. They were a mystery, and piecing together more and more about this person was equal parts exciting and terrifying.

What if he felt let down by the truth? What if they were a super cool monster and Sans learned he was totally out of his league. 

What if they were Jerry?

He’d probably throw himself back down the mountain if that was the case.

Finally, his phone chimed.

____________________________________________________________________________

**Ishmael_NotFullMale** : You have 20 questions to figure that out Ketchup. 

**KetchupDawg101** : r u bigger than a bread box?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Yes

 **KetchupDawg101** : do u breathe h2o?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : No

 **KetchupDawg101** : do u walk on 4 legs?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : No

 **KetchupDawg101** : do u have fingers?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Yes

 **KetchupDawg101** : do u wear clothes?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Yes, in pubic.

 **KetchupDawg101** : can u eat rocks?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : No?

 **KetchupDawg101** : r u edible?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Technically yes.

 **KetchupDawg101** : wut do utaste like.

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Currently fear and regret 

**KetchupDawg101** : do u know the colour of ur soul

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : My what now?

____________________________________________________________________________

_oh no._

The picture was becoming clearer and Sans started to panic.

 _shot in the dark here with an extremely personal question._

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : u have any lv?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : I don’t know.

____________________________________________________________________________

_shit._  
_no way……_

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : r u human?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Bingo!

 **KetchupDawg101** : ur a human us’n a monster app?

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : Are you upset? I was told humans can also use it. 

**KetchupDawg101** : not upset. just surprised. 

**KetchupDawg101** : i mean, u could b lying

 **Ishmael_NotFullMale** : In that case….

 **IsNotLying** : PICTURE ATTACHED

____________________________________________________________________________

There was the proof. Soft, fleshy proof. A picture of a pair of human legs, sprawled out on a mattress that ended in crocs.

A crude sign on looseleaf written in sharpie was resting in their lap. It read ‘Hi KetchupDawg101’.

____________________________________________________________________________

**IsNotLying** : I’m off to bed now, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ok?

 **IsNotLying** : Have a goodnight.

 **KetchupDawg101** : night.

____________________________________________________________________________

Sans tried his hardest to fall sleep. 

It wasn’t a good use of his time to lay awake thinking about how short those PJ briefs were. Or how cute those thighs probably looked under that sign with his username. How soft they seemed.

And it certainly wasn’t a losing battle to convince himself that he did NOT in fact, have a crush on this human.

…. It was a long night for Sans.

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3 am and I can't edit for shit.  
>  ~~free labor~~ Betas where for art thou?


	7. By Day Six

You never pictured your friend Alphys as the domestic type, and the instant ramen currently being worked on solidified that thought. None the less you couldn't complain. Free food was free food. Even if she judged your ramen preferences. 

"It’s a b-bit odd that you’re here on the last Sunday of the month. What happened to your m-movie night with Sans?"

"He said he was busy and asked for a raincheck. Earlier this week I spent most almost a full day harassing him at work, so I still met my skeletal quota." 

Alphys stood by her kettle, waiting for the water to boil for the ramen. She was very adamant that you had yours cooked via package instructions and not eaten dry with the powder sprinkled over the top as you had asked for. She didn't even try to hide her disdain.

“Sans is rubbing off on you too m-much.” 

"Speaking of Sans rubbing. No! Wait! Gross. That didn’t come out right."

She grimaced but stifled a snicker behind her claw. 

"Ug. So what are we gonna do about Sans and Undyne? I was content to just let them be idiots and work their own stuff out like the adults I _thought_ they were. But this is getting ridiculous, right? I mean, it’s been like five months?"

Alphys’ sighed and looked down at the floor. 

“I’ve tried to convince Undyne that’s it’s time to end the feud with Sans. Just last night I mentioned b-burying the hatchet.”

“Let me guess, her thoughts jumped to murder and she thanked you for the great idea?”

“Something like that. I’d love for things to go b-back to normal, b-but one of them would have to apologize first. And Undyne is being… W-well... You know?”

Oh, you did know. Undyne’s passion and energy were second to none, and that included Papyrus; a man who literally held a memorial service for your dead venus fly trap. 

Undyne apologizing was akin to admitting fault for being slighted, and she was as likely to do that as she was to sprout wings and fly.

Sans was easily just as stubborn, since holding a grudge required him to do nothing and in typical fashion, he continued to give zero fucks towards mending the gap between them. 

“Is there any integrity in taking one of their phones, pretending to be them, and saying sorry on their behalf?” 

The kettle began to whistle and she moved to take it off the element and carefully pour water into your bowls. 

“Seriously?” She gave you a cockeyed look. 

You simply splayed your palms out and shrugged.

“Hmmm, w-we’re talking theft of property and then fraud. No, I can’t say there’s too m-much integrity in that.” Alphy’s tutted under breath and you barley caught wind of her mumbling something about a soul and the colour blue as she brought your food over.

“Hold the phone. What was that last bit?”

“Here’s your ramen?”

“No, before that? Something blue?”

“Oh, I was just thinking that your soul was unlikely to b-be coloured blue considering your m-methodology at b-bridging the gap b-between to fighting friends.”

“Yes! Ok! So, potentially insensitive question here and if I’m being a jerky human just tell me so. But what’s the deal with souls and soul colours? Like, is it a monster thing?”

Your ramen was still piping hot so you got up to fill a glass with ice cubes to add to the broth. When you sat back down and offered her some she shook her head. Alphy’s could handle an alarming amount of heat. 

“It’s an everybody thing, technically. We all have a soul, and each soul has a key trait. Something that is integral to how we form our personal values and how we make decisions. And each of those traits is denoted by a colour.”

You watched in awe she brought her bowl to her lips and slurped a mass of steaming noodles without flinching. She wiped her mouth against her sleeve before continuing. “Soul traits are common knowledge for monsters. We’re basically taught it in the same way human children are taught nursery rhymes.”

You thought that over while tentatively slurping some cooled ramen. 

_I guess that was a smart question on Ketchup’s part. He guessed it not long after._

“Can I ask w-why you’re curious about this?”

“A friend just asked me what colour my soul was and I had no idea what they were talking about. I think that question is what tipped them off to guessing I was a human.” 

Alphy’s perked right up. “Is this the one from the App?”

“Yup. The very same. They asked what kind of monster I was. Not gonna lie I was terrified to answer. I kept thinking oh shit, what if they expect me to be a monster and then they stop talking to me once the truth is out?”

“That w-would be silly. It’s a human-friendly app. Regardless of the origins.”

“Yeah, it would, but I’m glad they don’t seem to mind now that it’s out in the open.”

“Do you know what kind of monster _they_ are?”

“You know, I didn’t ask. I’m kind of living for the mystery now that it’s all but confirmed that they are one.” 

You looked up from your ramen to see Alphy’s staring down at you with a smug grin on her face. 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. You’ve just b-been sort of b-blushing this whole time. I think you really like this person.”

Blushing? Were you blushing? Certainly not. You pressed the back of your hand against your cheek as if to check its temperature. “This soup’s hot Alphy’s. And spicy. We can’t all eat food that burns like the sun without breaking a sweat.”

“If you say so. It’s just that you gush about them almost every day in chat. And at first, I didn’t think anything of it, b-but know I can see your face and…"

“And _what?_ You know, I think you and Undyne need to spend some time apart. She’s a bad influence on you and I‘m staging an intervention right here, right now. Crash at my place and water my plants while I’m gone.” 

Alphy’s laughed and playfully nudged you under the table. 

For always being the smartest person in the room, she never talked down to anyone and genuinely cared about using her skills to help others. Alphys was often perceptive to a fault, but you took her company whenever you could get it. 

And thanks to her you managed to escape the heavy thoughts of the coming work week for most of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive out to Hillside Springs was beautiful. The small, dusty highway was all but void of any other traffic thanks to its seclusion from any major landmarks. This excursion took you along a mountain line you had never been to before, and despite seeing mountains daily, despite wading through marshes and prairies all the damn time, nature never got any less beautiful to you. 

This current part of the trek turned a bit less pleasant as the road became less of a road and more of an over-glorified deer trail. According to your GPS, you were coming up to the ridge that would be your site for the week, and sure enough, Dick’s vehicle was already parked off to the side.

He emailed you the night before offering to pick you up and drop you off at the end of the week. 

You thanked yourself out loud for refusing to carpool, then gave a silent apology to the Earth for refusing to carpool. 

After parking you existed your truck and began stretching your legs. Dick followed suit, emerging from his car, and greeted you with a wide smile.

“Good morning You sure took your time getting here, huh? Should have come in with me. That’s why I offered.”

It took genuine effort not to glare. It was an eight and a half-hour trip. You left at four-thirty in the morning, only stopped once for gas and it was barely past eleven now. You made great time, but that was not a hill to even climb, let alone die on.

“Good morning. I hope the drive was pleasant. When did you get in?”

Dick crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk of his car. “A couple of hours ago.”

_And you have exactly… zero things set up for camp in all that time. Interesting._

You gave what you hoped was a winning smile. “Well, there was no need for you to wait on my account.” Using your tire as a step you hoped into the box of your truck and began loosening a ratchet strap. “Shall we start with the tents?”

“Sure,” he agreed, making no move to grab anything, “so uh, how big is your tent there?”

Intuition, trap sense, spidey sense… All of the senses were going off. 

_Oh damn this is a trick question._

“Mine? Umm, not very big at all. Barley fits one. Shall I give you a hand setting yours up first? You’re probably bored out of your tree from waiting on me.” You jumped back down from the side of the truck and quickly walked to his car, gesturing at his trunk. “Here I’ll help haul your stuff over. Did you see any places you’d like to set up at?”

He seemed to deflate at your words; his grin fading slightly. “Oh, um. No, I thought I’d wait for you before deciding. And, this is kind of embarrassing, but I’ve forgotten my tent at home.” 

“Well, that’s no trouble. I always bring a spare. Ok. From just a quick look I can see there’s a couple of decent inclines we can use in case it rains. How bout over there?”

Reluctantly Dick popped his trunk open and you both hauled over as much of his tent supplies as you could in one trip before you brought over your spare tent. 

You gave him a hand staking down his tarp and helped him feed the tent poles through the canvas. 

Dick’s borrowed tent was standing by the time you brought your tent to a different incline. He made no offer to help in retrieving your things, but you considered that a small blessing. It’s not like you needed his help anyways. You could set up camp with your eyes closed. 

You’d probably get hurt a little, but you could still do it.

After snugging up your tent’s vestibule, some movement in the dried grass caught your eye. A closer inspection revealed a large bullsnake and you quickly pulled out your phone while slowly moving closer. 

After playing around with the settings you began snapping pictures hoping to get a good shot while the snake was moving; it would be something cool to show Sans when you got back to the city. 

“Excuse me. But I believe we are on company time. Perhaps taking Instagram photos can wait until we’re done for the day?”

Arguably you couldn’t be too mad since the guy sort of had a point, but also screw him. 

“Apologies, I saw an opportunity to begin cataloging wildlife habitats for our reports. It’s important to consider that we might be displacing these snakes.” 

“We have company cameras for that.”

“Of course.” You may have pocked your phone with a little more force than necessary while stomping by Dick to grab more of your things.

And if you were too old to be pouting like a baby for the rest of the day, well, that was between you, Dick, and the bullsnake. 

As you had expected, working alongside him was less than ideal. Dick chose to work exclusively on compiling end of day progress reports while you measured the terrain, made maps, and staked off the proposed route of the new road. 

Maybe you were biased and simply felt inclined to take everything he said the wrong way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that when he spoke to you his words were both condescending and flirtatious.

Just last night he tried to weasel his way into your spaghetti dinner. 

“Oh, wow. That actually doesn’t look half bad. Would you like some company while you eat this evening? I imagine you’re tired of always dining alone these days.” 

You really needed to stop discussing your personal life with coworkers. Nothing was sacred and management could be absolutely ruthless. 

By day six you were about ready to bathe in poison ivy just for the excuse to run to the nearest settlement. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sans sat in the darkness of his room, hiding from his brother. The only visible light was from his phone’s screen as he stared at his contacts list for an alarming amount of time.

He needed a second opinion regarding some “Not feelings.” Or rather a third opinion. His cool brother was being slightly less cool and more meddlesome and had already made his feelings regarding _Sans’ feelings_ glaringly obvious.

It wasn’t long before he picked up that Sans’ demeanour towards his app friend had changed and he insisted on coaching him to help woo this potential suitor.

Sans had continued denying any non-platonic inklings regarding his new friend all week and Papyrus guffawed at all his attempts to convince him that he only wanted to be friends.

“Sans it is pointless to argue. You obviously like them, and I still don’t see the problem with simply asking them out on a date. Why are you fighting this so much?”

“bro, please. it’s still way too early to even consider going on a date and i have no clue if they like me that way.”

“Then ask.”

Sand pointedly ignored him and continued. “plus i have no idea where they are. they could be halfway across the country, they could be happily married or,” Sans mumbled under his breath, “uninterested in monsters.”

It was just his luck that this not crush of his was on human.

By day six, and after Papyrus had proclaimed for the umpteenth time that Sans should practice showering more in preparation for a future date that was NOT happening, Sans was about ready to bust out his 'big brother' voice. 

“please paps, i’m beggin ya, just let me work out my next move, on my own for a bit. _please_?”

Papyrus wanted to argue, he was an expert in dating and socialization after all, but agreed to give Sans some time to self-reflect. That however didn’t stop him from leaving his dating manual propped up against Sans’ bedroom door.

The dating manual was now on his desk being very much ignored. 

No. He needed an opinion from someone who was not overly invested in his everyday life. Someone who could be impartial and practical.

Sans hovered over Alphys’ number. Was he really considering this? Telling Alphys was as good as telling Undyne, and the only thing he wanted to tell her was to take a hike.

But they had been friends for so long, and she was likely to be understanding, considering her humble beginnings pinning over Undyne from a trash bin.

Then there was his good human buddy to consider, but they were just as likely to tear the mickey out of him as Undyne was. Granted they’d probably help afterward but they were currently unreachable due to work.

No.

It was too soon to call in the cavalry and it was obvious he needed to get to know this app friend more. The basics like what things they liked, where they lived, and, _more importantly,_ if they were interested in dating at all.

But he couldn’t talk to them right now.

If only there was some cataloged list of their mundane information available to him. Someplace they would have left little clues about themselves that Sans could read at his leisure.

……..

Without warning, the ghost of Papyrus’ past wisdom echoed in his skull.

_“Really Sans? Did you even read their profile?”_

_“No matter. We can read it together now.”_

_oh shit_

Sans shot up out of his bed as he scrambled to load the app. Did it always load this slow?

And how did he not think of this sooner?

Surely their profile would have some answers. It was technically a monster dating/socialization app, and it was likely they joined for at least one of those two reasons.

After the longest six seconds in recent history, the app chimed with a familiar tune, and Sans smashed their profile pic with a little more force than necessary.

The first thing he noticed on their profile was that Ebott City was set as their locations.

Sans cursed out loud. “no way. what are the odds? of all the places this human could be from, we actually live in the same city?”

Did this change things? It was feeling like this might change things.

“nope. calm down sans. there is no need to get excited. it’s just once piece of the equation.

Sans could feel his soul’s pulse quicken as he scrolled down to the ‘Seeking’ portion of their profile.

_fuck_

And there it was, clear as day. They had ‘looking for a relationship’ listed in their profile.

They also had ‘looking for a Daddy’ there too, but Sans choose to ignore that.

If they were looking for a relationship on a monster app, that could really swing things in his favor. 

Assuming he actually developed any sort of feelings for them of course. Which was obviously unlikely to happen... 

Sans fell back on his bed, feeling like he might have a chance at _something_. 

Even if he didn’t know what that something was. 

Sans fell asleep that night lulled by the constant drumming of his newly motivated soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna mention that Sans has a degree in Physics with a minor in Engineering. He is smart enough to not be such an idiot all the time. 
> 
> He just needs to try. And therein lies the issue.


	8. No Ballroom

If not telling your supervisor to shove off was an Olympic sport you would have won a medal. Maybe not gold, but at least bronze. And if you’re not taking home the gold, bronze was better anyway, right? You _win_ bronze. You _lose_ silver like a chump. 

Each day of the work trip had been a testament to your patience and it was dwindling. 

And every night since your arrival you would spend time stargazing and decompressing your existence in a world that forced you to be partnered with the man named Jason who goes by Dick. 

The sun had long since set on day eight of your nine days out in Hillside Springs and the night was crisp and clear. The kind of cool that demanded you snuggle up on the grass in an oversized fleece sweater and thermal socks. 

The black sky was void of any sign of light pollution this far out from civilization and the view was truly stunning; especially without any reflected light from the moon. Even the faintest stars in the Little Dipper were stark and easy to make out tonight. For all the love you had pertaining to the things on the ground, the night sky was still a wonder in and of itself. 

Regardless of how jaded you grew each year, you took joy in the fact that you could still feel small standing by the ocean or laying under the night sky. The vastness never made you anxious, only peaceful and it was a safe place to temporarily cast your thoughts from your head and relax.

These nightly rituals were meant to clear your head, but the past few nights you found yourself obsessively reading into Alphy’s previous words.

_“If you say so. It’s just that you gush about them almost every day in chat. And at first, I didn’t think anything of it, b-but know I can see your face and…”_

Do you really gush about Ketchup that often? You certainly _liked_ the guy. They were cool and demanded very little. Also, they didn’t gripe about any lack of availability or effort on your end. But until very recently you had never considered them to be other than a friend. Which is what they irrefutably were before Alphys had gone and put strange thoughts into your head. 

And that was a move more befitting to Undyne. Undyne the prankster. Undyne the reckless. Undyne the utter shit disturber. Though you were now starting to second guess who _really_ wears the pants in that relationship. 

But back to the nagging thoughts at hand; do you really like Ketchup?

Fuck, this would probably feel less weird if it didn’t sound like you were pinning over food condiments. (Not that you were one to talk. Your latest username rendition was less than helpful; IsItStSwithinsDayAlready?)

“You groaned and covered your face with your hands. “This is stupid. I barely know this person. Why am I agonizing over something I probably don’t even want?”

But what did you want?

You looked back at the stars through your fingers. _This._ Stars at night. A cool breeze. Coyotes yipping in the distance. Soft grass to lay on. 

All that was missing was somebody to enjoy it with.  
.  
Could that someone possibly be?

“Hey. It’s quite chilly out here. Are you seriously just stargazing in the cold?”

 _Damn._

You made no motion to sit up but turned your head to face the unwanted company. “Hi. I was just enjoying the view since I probably won’t be back now that we’re done here.” 

“Yeah, but haven’t you stargazed _every_ night so far?” Dick said as if he has some sort of point. Which he pointedly, did not. 

“Yes, but now I can do it without the threat of being sleepy during work the next morning looming over me.” 

He laughed a little too loudly. “That’s funny. Mind if I join you?”

_Pee… tired… cold… which excuse which excuse?!_

Dick gracefully laid beside you, propping his head up with one fist and resting the other had on his waist. His hair wasn’t long enough to cover his eyes, but he still flicked his head back as if clearing luscious locks from his face. 

Which obviously looked ridiculous. 

“Oh, I was just thinking of heading in for the night. Starting to feel a bit chilly.” You slowly sat up working out the kink that had formed in your shoulder. 

“Hang on, I won’t keep you long.” With Dick peering up at you behind long lashes and the small amount of starlight casting shadows on his face, it was easy to see why the ladies at work were so excited when he entered the room. Dick was so very stereotypically attractive. And he knew it in spades. “I just wanted to say that it’s been an absolute pleasure to work alongside you.”

“Why thank you. It’s been an experience.” _One I hope not to repeat._ You thought snidely. “A valuable one. Trust me that I’m taking away a lot from my time here.”

“Glad to hear it. Maybe one day we can do this again?” Thankfully Dick didn’t wait to receive and answer from you. “So, any exciting plans for when you get back home?” Dick pulled himself up to sit in some equally modelesque pose, a slight pout to his lips.

“Shower? Shower sounds nice. Maybe water the plants. Get a hotdog.”

Dick tutted under breath. “Sounds riveting. But a hotdog? Listen, I know of a little Greek restaurant in the city whose Mussaka is to die for. If you’re interested I’d be happy to bring you there.”

Mmm all of that sounded great except the part where he was involved. Was all his schmoozing these past nine days genuine attempts at setting up a date? Oh, Sans was gonna love this. 

Maybe it was the seven-plus days of trying to play nice, or maybe it was his subtle dis of a good old hotdog that was stripping you of your remaining tact, but now was definitely a good time to leave. 

Your body complained as you got to your feet, and dusted yourself off. “You know who loves Greek food? Elizabeth. She literally eats spanakopita every other day for lunch. I bet she would flip her lid at the chance of eating there.” You stretched your arms above your head and gave an exaggerated yawn for good measure. “Well Dick, thanks for the company but I suddenly find myself feeling very tired. You have yourself a goodnight and I will see you in the morning when we pack up.” You turned on your heels and walked away before he could respond.

Truthfully there was almost nothing left for you to pack. Everything except your bedroll, tent, tarp, and change of clothes were already stowed in the truck and ready to go. 

The conundrum you found yourself in was whether or not it was worth it to stay and help Dick pack up so you could get your spare tent back, or if potentially sacrificing it to flee early was the better option. 

Now you were certainly feeling the latter. There was a long day of travel ahead and the sooner you got home the sooner you could put this assignment behind you.

You didn’t bother to look back and see if he was following you, opting to simply beeline to the tent and tuck yourself away, your thoughts of Ketchup now thoroughly derailed for the night.

~~~~~~~~~

When Sans woke up three days ago unable to breathe without great discomfort and feeling like every spec of dust within him was revolting, he could no longer deny it. He was officially sick. 

Not the just the constant lethargy that came with his body trying to continually buffer his measly HP; but the gross kind of sickness that made his body ache and turned his magic reserves sour, forcing him to vacate all traces of it on a semi-frequent basis. 

The bucket under his bed was kept for just such an occasion. And while Sans didn’t get sick as much as he did living in the constant cold of Snowdin, the process of ejecting magic from every hole in one's skull was still thoroughly disgusting and uncomfortable.

He had been closing his hotdog stand earlier and earlier each day and came home trying to avoid his brother’s probing questions and temperature checks, opting to stow away under the guise of being “just tired.” Wishful thinking on his part. 

But now that he looked (and felt) like literally death, there was no way to deny the truth. He was going to be a down for the count while trying to fight off whatever bug had decided to pay him a visit. 

There was a knock at his bedroom door and he heard it open slightly. Sand didn’t bother to turn over and look at his guest, he knew it was his brother. 

“Sans, how are you feeling?” Papyrus opened the door wider but didn’t step inside. Not that he wasn’t healthy enough to fight off whatever Sans had, but he had an out of town trip planned with several monsters from the embassy, and it would do no good to risk spreading it to others. 

Sans gave a weak thumbs up from under the covers. “like my skull is caving in.”

“Well, do you feel like trying to eat something? All you’ve had in the last two days is water and an uncomfortable amount of jello.”

“i just like the way it feels in my mouth.” Sans tiredly replied. “but no, i don’t think i can keep solids down.”

“How about some soup then?” Papyrus offered. 

“maybe later paps. i’m gonna try and go back to sleep. thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course brother. Sleep well.” 

Sans passed back out before his door even clicked shut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Papyrus continued to stand outside his brother’s door after he closed it, wishing there was something more he could do to help his brother. Some healing magic could slightly alleviate some of the discomforts of being sick, but it was no cure.

He never liked feeling powerless, especially when it involved his brothers’ well being and Sans was being less than helpful with Papyrus’ attempts to help. Even his offer of asking Alphys to make a house call was immediately shut down. Not that she was exactly that kind of doctor, but Alphys still had a plethora of knowledge on monster biology and wellbeing and could surely come up with some smart-sounding conclusion that would make Papyrus feel better about doing _something_.

Of course, Sans had made a huge fuss so Papyrus backed off.

This left him with a slight problem; Papyrus had an out of town embassy trip to make and if he couldn’t ask Alphy’s to stay and watch Sans then he needed someone else. 

He already knew his brother would argue about needing to be watched, but Sans would argue about anything if you were foolish enough to put up a fight. 

Papyrus tapped a slender finger on his chin thoughtfully, turning away from Sans’ bedroom and walked to his own. By the time he sat down at his desk he had a brilliant idea. 

_The human! It’s so obvious. Plus they are immune to monster flu. Nyeh, a great plan indeed._

Pulling out his phone he typed a quick message. 

**The Great Papyrus:** Hello! I hope this message finds you well. Are you back from your work trip yet?  


To his delight, the reply was almost instant. 

**RockSolid** : Hey Papyrus! I’m doing alright. I’m just stopping for gas and snacks now, then I’m only two hours away. So I’ll be back home soon. Why? Do you need anything?

 **The Great Papyrus:** Not at the moment, but I was hoping to ask you a favor.

 **The Great Papyrus:** Sans is sick and in two days I’ll be out of the city for work. He’ll be ok, but I’d feel better if someone could check in on him while I’m away.

 **RockSolid** : Oh no! Is it a cold? And I gotcha covered. How long will you be gone?

 **The Great Papyrus:** Flu mostly likely. I’ll be back on Saturday.

 **RockSolid** : Ok. I’ll keep an eye on him and keep you posted.

 **RockSolid** : Do you want graphic pictures of his recovery?

 **The Great Papyrus:** Preferably not. 

**RockSolid** : Sounds good. I’ll be there Thursday after work. 

**The Great Papyrus:** Thank you.  


They punctuated their final text with a thumbs up and Papyrus felt instantly better. 

His brother would be in good, capable hands. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sans was very out of it Thursday night when you came over. 

When you entered their house the first thing you noticed a slightly sour smell in the air and immediately opened the living room window.

Next, you noticed that the hide-a-bed was already made up for your visit with fresh sheets and pillows. Papyrus had initially offered you his bed but you insisted that sleeping downstairs would be fine. 

Best of all, you had dropped off the household's new microwave before your last work trip, so there would be no creepy electronic voices at night. 

Papyrus had texted you that Sans wasn’t eating much and he had trouble keeping food down, even the straight monster food that he cooked. All he would consume were liquids. 

“Poor guy probably hasn't had a hotdog in a while,” you thought out loud as you grabbed the very warm thermos from your bag and a large beanie bag. “Hopefully some hotdog broth will do.”

Hotdog broth, or weiner-water-soup as you often referred to it, was the most disgusting thing you could think to eat, but Sans genuinely liked it. Considering what Papyrus told you about him not doing well with solid foods you thought it might make him happy to have some hot salty sausage water to comfort him in his time of need. 

Once at his door you knocked lightly to the tune of ‘shave and a haircut’ before cracking the door open. If you thought the downstairs smelt bad, it had nothing on the bedroom of patient zero. Like if sweat, dirt, and vomit had a baby. 

“Sans, are you awake?” You asked in a soft whisper, breathing through your mouth. You heard the sound of a blanket rustling and opened the door further to find Sans turning over in his bed to face you. 

“huh? why are you here?” His voice was hoarse, whether from not using it or his flu, you did not know. 

“Papyrus asked me to keep an eye on you while he’s gone.” 

The sigh he responded with was filled with annoyance. “of course he fucking did. you can leave. i don't need you to watch over me.”

“I will leave your _room_ after I check you over, but I’m spending a couple of nights”

“seriously, stay out of my room, i’m fine.”

Ignoring him you marched to his bed and set the thermos on his nightstand. “I have some of the hotdog broth you like in this thermos. It will stay warm for about five hours. I’ll leave it here for you if you get hungry.” 

You reached down to check his temperature before continuing, ignoring him as he cringed away from you. Sans was sweating profusely and felt very hot. “This here,” you brandished the beanie bag even though he was ignoring you, “has been in my freezer all day. You can use it to cool down parts of your body if you feel the need. I’ll leave it by this pillow.”

“i get it, now will you just go already?"

“Yes yes yes, I’m leaving. Call me on my cell if you need anything ok?”

The grunt you got in response served as the closest thing to affirmation you’d be getting from the sad skeleton. You knew better than to take anything Sans said in this state personally or be offended by his sudden lack of manners. 

Now that you were back in the living room all that was left was to wait out the evening until Sans needed you or morning came. You brought snacks and a book for good measure and dug into both, being mindful not to make a mess on the sheets. 

It occurred to you that you haven't heard from Ketchup for a few days and decided to reach out. 

____________________________________________________________________________

 **IssleForShizzle** : Hey, how are you doing? 

**KetchupDawg101** : meh. how r u?

 **IssleForShizzle** : I’m alright. Babysitting a stupid baby. 

**KetchupDawg101** : stupid bbys need da most atnshun. 

**IssleForShizzle** : Ain’t that the truth. 

**IssleForShizzle** : Any good jokes for me today?

 **KetchupDawg101** : wut do skinny jeans n cheap hotels hav n common?

 **IssleForShizzle** : I don’t know, what?  
____________________________________________________________________________

Hours ticked by as you waited for the punchline or for Sans to call you, and eventually, you fell asleep without a word from either.


	9. MTT was his Name-O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a car ride at some point. 
> 
> It's pretty much filler. Filler for days, folks.

You were dreaming, you think. Running towards something. Something important. But it seemed to get further and further away the fast you ran. 

Yes, you knew it must be a dream because you hated running. 

It was growing even fuzzier now, and your thoughts grew more convoluted. The harder you tried to remember, the quicker it dissipated, until finally, the dream ended. The only thing that you retained was an overwhelming sense of dread and shame. 

“Heloooooooo?”

_Go to hell. Go directly to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect 2 hundred dollars you mechanical box of nightmares._

“Okaaaaaaay.”

You had learned in the middle of the night, by way of ramblings in ‘furbish’, that the microwave you had so graciously dropped off over a week ago was not installed.

And you had your suspicions about where the microwave was stored but as it stood you didn’t feel right barging into Sans' bedroom, waking him up and interrogating him over a restless night’s sleep. 

That being said you still had to check in on him, so you could at least get a good amount of hateful glaring done. 

Sans was out like a light when you came into crack his window open and refresh his water. To your delight, he had drunk all of the hotdog broth at some point in the night and the vomit bucket was graciously empty. 

While you’ve witnessed Sans dozing countless times in the past, you had never seen him resting like this and you took a moment to watch the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath the blankets. Even when you’ve caught him napping at his hotdog stand he seemed to be sleeping with a metaphorical eye open; ready to snap back to action in the blink of said eye. 

But this was a true, deep sleep. He looked peaceful. A look not synonymous with Sans the Skeleton, for all of his lack-a-daisy ways. 

You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him, but ultimately walked over to his bed. 

“Hey Sans? I have to leave for work now.” Your voice was more than a whisper but still soft. He didn’t stir. “I’ll be back tonight. Aaaand you’re most certainly not awake. That’s ok, I’ll leave a note.”

True to your word, there was a handwritten reminder for Sans when he woke up stating when you’d be back, telling him you’d have instant dinosaur egg oatmeal ready to be made in the kitchen and asking why the hell the cursed microwave hadn’t been replaced after buying the house a new one. 

With your thermos in tow, you walked out of his room but not before giving some wicked side-eye to the closet where the new microwave almost surely was. But that would be an invasion of privacy to peek, and if the sate of his room was any indicator, you didn’t want to know what was in that closet. 

Papyrus may have gotten the bigger bedroom, but Sans got the surprisingly larger closet and that’s something you knew his brother still lamented to this day. 

Sans hid a puppy in there once. 

The way Papyrus tells it, it was a very annoying dog. 

Your phone’s final alarm, the one that meant you really needed to be out the door by now rang out and you picked up the pace, grabbing your things and cramming your feet awkwardly into your poor shoes. They deserved much better treatment, but never got it. 

With a quick flick of the wrist, their front door was locked and you were off for the day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was quite late in the afternoon when Sans could no longer stand laying in his damp bed. He felt gross. Healthwise on the mend, but still terribly gross. Stars how he needed a shower.

Swallowing the excess magic in his throat was not as painful as before, and he no longer felt equal parts freezing and dying of heat exhaustion at the same time. 

Sans pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, noting how cool he was while trying to ignore the stickiness. He vaguely remembered drinking something hot last night, but hadn’t eaten anything really substantial in a long time; he was famished. 

He rolled onto his side and felt a hard mass press again his ribcage, (the bean-bag) which prompted him to think about your quick visit last night, which then made him feel like an asshole. Sans vaguely recalled being a slight dick at your efforts to help him.

To add insult to injury you had left him a message about one of his favorite breakfast foods being downstairs waiting for him. A gesture obviously made to make him feel better. 

He thought about texting you an apology for earlier, but you were at work and would be back later anyhow. He could just say it then. 

When Sans made to sit up in his bed the covers actually stuck to his bones, peeling away inch by inch. A sensation that made his teeth hurt. 

Yep, he definitely needed a shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sans did not have the words to describe just how excited he was when he came downstairs to see the dinosaur oatmeal laid out in the kitchen. It’s not that he didn’t believe you, it’s just that it seemed too good to be true. 

Three packets worth were dumped in a bowl, the water already premeasured in a cup nearby, and a note that said microwave for a minute and a half. 

Or pray to Satan who lives in the microwave to bless his oatmeal and cook it in hell.

The former seemed the better choice. 

It was piping hot, almost but not quite burnt when he took it out, and for the first time, Sans had one fleeting moment of regret about not installing the new microwave. 

He rarely got to have this special oatmeal and he’d be damned if the first time he gets to indulge in forever, it’s charred. 

After breakfast, Sans mustered the energy to clean his sheet and pillowcases. The rank odor from his room was foul even for him, and something needed to be done. He didn’t realize just how badly he stunk when he woke up this morning and the thought of you being in his room to smell that was a tad bit embarrassing. 

He went upstairs to collect all his belongings that needed washing and took them to the laundry room. By some miracle, his fuzzy house slippers were in the living room the whole time and didn’t absorb any of his sickness smell. 

He wore them now, absentmindedly kicking his feet while perched upon the washing machine waiting for his clothes to finish. Sans dug out his phone. Apparently he had briefly messaged his new friend the start of a joke in his delirium but never delivered on the punch line. 

He typed it in quickly and sent it off before getting to what he really wanted to do; address directly, but casually why IsBaby made a profile on this site and assess what that might mean for their relationship moving forward. 

Sans must have typed and retyped his thoughts fifty times. Trying to find the right degree of laid-back, the right degree of clarity, hell, even just the courage to actually ask it.

To ask if he stood even a ghost of a chance at something other than casual online friends this early into their friendship. 

_so when i was scoping out your user profile…_

_i was wondering the other day why you joined this site instead of a human one..._

_is it safe to assume you’re single?_

_hey, by any chance do you wanna be more than friends with me?_

_when you say looking for a daddy, what does that even mean?_

Nope. Nope. That thought was not even worth entertaining, where the hell did that even come from??

Sans finally settled with,

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : hey, i no i’ve bn away 4 a bit. was feeln under the weather. i wanted to ask you something.  
____________________________________________________________________________

He should be direct.

He should talk about his feelings first.

Honesty was probably the best approach, right?

Fuck it.

_____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** :ur profile says dat ur lookin 4 a relashunship. was just wondering if u were having ny luck with dat on here. ya no, u bein a human n all. is it hrd 2 meet othr humans?  
_____________________________________________________________________________

Yes, that would do for now. If it turned out that they’ve been out and about, dating the masses of Ebott City then he wouldn’t feel like such a loser by asking them out directly and being rejected if they've met someone already. Better to put the ball in their court and see how their dating luck has been going. 

The washer went off with a cheerful little jingle and he began pulling the wet clothes out of the wash. Oddly enough they still smelled rank while he tossed them into the dryer. 

Oh, wait... that was still him. 

Right, he _really_ needed that shower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sans was sitting in the Lazy Boy wrapped in his snuggie when you came into the house. The bags under his eyes were still dark, but he wasn’t flushed and the smile on his face looked relaxed. He was still thoroughly sweaty though. 

Oh wait, that wasn’t sweat. It was- 

“Oh my god. Did you actually shower?” 

“yeah, fever is gone. i feel better than i look. and must you say it like i don’t regularly take hygiene into account? if they would just invent a shower that i could lay down in they wouldn’t suck so much." 

That poor overworked brain cell. 

“Sans, do you mean a _bathtub_?” 

He neither responded nor met your eye. 

“Did you eat?” 

“ate _and_ kept it dow. the power of hotdog water never ceases to amaze.” 

“If that was true you’d never get sick.” you countered while kicking off your shoes and dropping your bags. “You eat hotdogs every day. So what did you eat?” 

“i had the oatmeal. did you bring it over?” 

“No, I grabbed it from Papyrus’ secret stash. He always has some on hand.” 

Sans perked up at that. “are you kiddin’ me? my bro never buys that stuff. too sugary.” 

Ignoring him, you moved from the entryway over to the hide-a-bed and pulled out your phone before resting your feet on the back of the chesterfield and sprawling out on the mattress. Papyrus was due for an update and he would be thrilled to learn Sans was out of bed and eating. 

There was a message notification for Yakety App, but you swiped it out of the way and disregarded it, for now, opting to snap an upsidedown picture of Sans to send it as proof of his recovery. 

Sans kept pressing for the whereabouts of the coveted oatmeal, but you continued to ignore him. 

Papyrus’ quick response was simply to ask why Sans was upside down. 

**“I hate to be the one to tell you this, oh who am I kidding? I love calling you out. Sans, you’re a douche when you’re sick.”**

Sans groaned and hid his face behind the snuggie. “sorry bout that. i don’t remember much but what i do wasn’t nice.” 

“Ah, think nothing of it, buddy. I’m just teasing. Remember that time I was out with strep throat, and you came over to cheer me up? And then you asked if I wanted to play ‘strep poker’ and I threw my water bottle at your head? It’s basically the same mood. No one likes existing while they are sick, I get it.” 

Sans chuckled at his own past joke and set the reclining chair back, brandished the tv remote. “wanna watch a movie?” 

Before you could reply both of your phones chimed loudly. 

Papyrus was messaging the two of you, expressing his relief that Sans was feeling better. He also suggested that in celebration of his speedy recovery, the three of you should go see Mettaton’s newest stage play on Sunday evening. 

Slowly, you both looked up from your phones, the same knowing smirks growing on both of your faces. 

Sans broke the silence. “it’s been a while.” 

“Yeah, it has.” 

“feelin’ up to it?” 

“As a matter of fact, I am. Does your printer have ink? We can make them up tonight.” 

“it does. i’ll reserve our two special seats right now.” 

“Cool. Mind checking if the daubers are dry after?" 

“sure thing.” 

Sans really must have felt better if he was showing this much enthusiasm. Granted, having a secret laugh at other people’s expense was always high on his list of priorities; in sickness or in health. 

You only hoped Papyrus never ever caught wind of what you two were up to. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

With Mettaton, it was always “Go big or fuck off.” Not that those were his words per se, but that was how _you_ chose to sum up the type of energy it took to wear an all sequined reversible unitard while doing backflips and reciting a nine-minute beat poem about curing your terminally ill nemesis so you could kill him yourself. 

In box form. 

And by the title alone this was gearing up to be a fantastic copyright infringing evening. 

The show was called ‘The Sun Also Wears Parada while Dirty Dancing in the Purple Rain’. 

Sunday night came and the three of you rolled up to the venue in Papyrus’ red sports car. The windows were down despite the chilly air and Mettaton’s first album was blasting through the speakers. Neither you nor Sans really cared for his music but you now knew all the words to the songs after hearing them so often. And as such the both of you sang your little hearts out in camaraderie with the taller skeleton. 

It was the least you could do since you’d be ditching him as soon as you went to your seats. 

Speaking of... 

“Sans,” you whispered loudly to be heard over the slow fade of the song. “You got the tickets right?” 

“right here,” he replied while pulling a scrunched envelope from his pocket. “and everything for the game is in my box. do you have the contraband and safety measures?” 

You moved the shoulder bag wedged between you and the car door into your lap and gave it a hearty pat in response. By contraband, he meant prepurchased cheap snacks, and by safety measures, he meant foldable mini umbrellas and lint rollers. 

Papyrus had just lucked out with some rockstar-parking that was close to the doors and backed up into the spot. When he turned in his seat to face you he was wearing a pair of glasses that he most certainly was not wearing mere moments ago. 

"paps, are you really gonna wear those tonight?” 

“I was considering it, yes!” 

"but this show isn’t 3d." You could hear the strain in his voice, having to say something is as redundant as calling a live show _not_ 3D. 

"But they are my favorite glasses! Remember when we went to see ‘Mettaton: Danger Daring Darling: The 3D Experience’? It was wonderful and made all the more wonderful by the addition of these MTT glasses! I want to show my support as his number one fan." 

“I think the shirt you’re wearing that literally says ‘I’m Your Number 1 Fan’ on it drives that point home Papyrus.” 

Papyrus nyed softy in his seat and reached for the glasses, clearly feeling dejected. 

_Aww damn_

“Hey, Paps,” you interjected before he could remove them. “What I think Sans _meant_ to say was, you’re not going to wear those tonight without tape to secure them, right? Sans, give the man some tape." 

Sans sighed as if enabling his cool brother’s eccentricities was a chore, but pulled opened up his signature blue hoodie and pulled out a roll of tape and passed it to the front of the car. 

“Thank you Sans!” Papyrus proclaimed while accepting the tape. “It beats sparing magic to keep them up all night.” 

“How did you know I hade tape in my dimension box?” Sans whispered. 

“You run a successful hotdog stand. Don’t expect me to believe you don’t have tape on hand to combat the wind.” 

“Fair.” Sans replied. 

“There! It’s perfect. Alright my theatrical compadres, shall we be off?” 

Seat belts were hastily undone and doors slammed shut as you and Sans hustled to keep up with Papyrus' long, excited strides. 

The parking lot was huge, packed, and brightly lit with all the neon pinks and purples reflecting off the shiny vehicular surfaces. The biggest sign on the building used to be the one proclaiming MTT Resort, but now it was dwarfed by the addition above it; a boxy neon silhouette of Mettaton with a mermaid tail instead of a wheel swishing back and forth. 

It was loud, it was tacky, it was gaudy. And it gave every other establishment in this city a run for their money, even when they said it wouldn’t last a year. 

Turns out monsters are very loyal to their own kind, and humans are like magpies when it comes to shiny things. And there are a lot of shiny things to see there. 

Even the freaking burgers were shiny. 

The wait in line to get into the building was relatively short as the security friskers were very efficient at pat-downs and bag checks. 

Sans’ gear was safe due to magic, and he got through without any hitches. 

And you’ve never had a problem skipping thorough bag checks when you bring your Mettaton bag and fill it to the brim with MTT brand merch. The staff take one look at the stuffies and key chains sitting on top of the actual goods and brush you off quickly, not wanting to touch the mystery items that are surely going to be equal parts sticky, glittery, and cherry scented. 

Papyrus is such a memorable and frequent patron that he’s all but waved in before he can go off on a Mettaton related tangent and talk the guard’s ears off. They didn’t even comment about the 3D glasses. 

_Phase one: Infiltration, complete._

Sans distributed the tickets while you walked towards the concession line up. Not that you two were going to buy anything other than drinks and some popcorn. 

“I swear to Asgore Sans if the ticket scanner cannot read this due to the gratuitous amount of folds, I will have some very choice words for you!” Papyrus began to smooth out the ticket against his battle body in an attempt to lessen the creases to varied results. “Why you always insist on purchasing and keeping the tickets I’ll never know.” Papyrus sighed before continuing. “Though I do appreciate that you always accompany me to Mettaton's shows.” 

“of course paps. hey, do you ever think mettaton would do a theatre show about puns?” 

Papyrus stiffened. You leaned in closer. 

“i guess it would just be a play on words.” 

Sans’ timing was perfect as the three of you were up next to order and Papyrus was forced to keep his annoyance in check while he ordered through clenched teeth. 

“Ok, that one was pretty good.” 

“i try.” 

“No you don’t you liar.” 

The MTT worker called out when your food was ready and the three of you collected your items walked over to the fake popcorn butter stand for straws and seasoning. 

Both you and Sans began to chameleon tongue popcorn into your mouth and Papyrus scoffed at your manners. 

Shortly after the announcement chime dinged and a less than enthused employee stated that the show would be starting in ten minutes. 

Papyrus turned to the two of you, your mouths still full of the popcorn that wouldn’t even last the first fifteen minutes of the show. 

“I suppose this is where we part ways. I do wish for one night where we can all sit in the front row together and bask in the wonder of live theatre, but alas, you both have very nervous bladders. Now go to your special exit seats. We shall reconvene at the claw machine during intermission.” 

“See you soon Papyrus!” 

“later bro.” 

Papyrus waved you off and turned on his heels. He’d disappear into the crowd if he weren’t so darn tall. 

Wordlessly you walked behind Sans up the stairs and to the side of the theatre that had your setas, pausing to show your tickets to the ushers who scanned them and waved you along. 

The layout was your standard thrust style with raked seating. And for whatever reason, this theatre had two lonely Statler and Wardolf type seats that Sans managed to get every time without question. When you asked he simply said that he knows a guy who knows a guy, and that was good enough for you. 

It made the game much easier. 

The two seats were far enough away from everyone else and had its own private exit. Which was ideal so no one would be bothered by the constant entering and exiting you’d be doing. 

The two of you settled in and distributed the snacks from your bag. 

_Phase two: Acquire Seating, complete._

Sans dumped a box of smarties into his popcorn and gave it a shake before setting it on the floor. Next, he reached into his hoodie and passed you your ink dauber. 

The next item to make an appearance was a small stack of square cards that Sans began to shuffle. He offered up the pile to you and you taped on it twice, prompting him to cut the deck in half. He carefully picked up the top two sheets so as not to reveals their contents and put his hands behind his back. 

“lefty or righty?” 

“I’m feeling loosey today. Give me the left.” 

And with that, you had your homebrewed MTT bingo card for the show. 

It was your standard bingo affair, except squares were not earned by called out letters and numbers, but by random quotes or things on the cards happening during the show. 

For instance, one square might say 'aliens', and if at any point during the show aliens make an appearance and you are there to witness it, you get to dab out that square. 

You are both present for the first half-hour, earning whatever squares you can, then one person goes off to the arcade and waits for fifteen minutes while the other tries to surpass them in points. When the time is up, you switch and thus the game continues. 

Points earned while one is away is based on the honor system. That and you can verify pretty much everything when Papyrus gives the whole recap on the way home. If you lied about getting a stamp for bubblegum pink gun powder blasting out of the shotgun, Papyrus will reveal that it was, in fact, more of a slamming-salmon pink and the square will be revoked. 

The fifteen minutes intervals existed to give your brains a much-needed break from the overacting. People like what they like, and both you and Sans did not like sitting down for three hours and watching musical theatre. 

The din of the packed theatre quieted as the lights dimmed, then the curtain slowly began to rise. 

_Phase three: Show Time, complete._

“Break a leg Sans.” 

“break a leg buddy.” 

tbc 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This theatre bit had to be broken up into two chapters. 
> 
> Tune in next time when we learn if Chekov's Bedazzler comes into play.


	10. I'm here for Reaching Things 101

The meadows were coated in a thick fog, but not thick enough to obscure the pitiful, despondent man peering down at his reflection in the shallow pool before him, eyes met with the same sad gaze as his visage periodically faltered from ripples as his tears fell into the water. 

He swished his jet black hair with a flourish before more sobs racked his body, now merely an empty vessel for a broken heart. 

A large inflatable tyrannosaurus rex appeared behind a tree before quickly running off the stage. Dollars to donuts he was in the wrong scene. 

Then again, this is a Mettaton show….

Either way, another point for you.

Enter stage left, a fairy in kinky-black boots closed the distance between her and the crying man, hands poised at the ready as if to cast a spell. The man is none the wiser. The music started to play softly, the notes slowly rising to a crescendo as the woodland creatures stop in their tracks and began to jazz-hand (and hoof) in anticipation of the fairies next move. She leaned in. Closer. Closer. 

_Closer._...

 _Bzzzzzzzz_

Sans’ ultra-quiet phone vibrated and he lightly elbowed your arm, signaling your turn to leave the theatre. 

For a show that opened with a rap battle between an ice cream cone (Sir Cones-a-lot) and a brownie (Robert Brownie Jr.), you have no idea how you got to a soup store burning literally to the ground to this sad monologue at the serene forest meadow. 

Thirty minutes into The Lawsuit Title Play and you had a three nothing lead on Sans, so rules dictated you had to leave first. You set your own phone with a fifteen-minute timer and quietly left your seat as you made your way down the stairs and to the arcade.

The din of the arcade was a welcome change. It’s familiar yet-not familiar noises made for an excellent distraction from the gaudy musical. It was on your second ever game of MTT Bingo when you first noticed the arcade games were a little off from what you were used to. 

A row of ‘Painball’ machines adorned with flashing lights beeped loudly while the aggressive robotic voice from ‘Mouse of the Dead 4’ urged you to fight back hordes of zombies rats with chainsaws. Six-pacman’s wakka-wakka was more of a wakey-wakey.

You sat down at a table beside the whack-a-mole (that’s espionage, not the mammal) and dug out your phone, intending to use your brief reprieve to finally respond to Ketchup. You had previously seen one message that read “no ballroom,” but had yet to glance at the others that came in. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101:** your profile says that you’re looking for a relationship. i was just wondering if you were having any luck with that on here. ya no, u bein a human n all. is it hrd 2 meet othr humans?  
____________________________________________________________________________

_Qu’est-ce que fuck?_

You continued to scrutinize the message, rereading it in your head. 

“Why would Ketchup think I’m looking for a relationship based on my profile?”

 _I talked about camping, cooking, Costco…_.

You were pretty sure nothing you said could have been construed as seeking a relationship when Undyne helped you set up your account. 

…….

And therein was the crux. 

_Undyne_

You sprang up from your seat, walking in angry circles around the table. “That no-good dirty rotten wh-” 

“WOOHOO!” came a shout in the distance, followed by a chorus of cheers. An arcade patron had just won a jackpot at some random game and a neon box was vomiting up a steady row of tickets. 

“Oh, that sneaky little sneak. We are gonna have some words her and I. Lots and lots of words. And when I see her I’m gonna. I’m gonna…”

_“Destroy!”_

“Yeah, I’ll destroy her!”

_“Take them out!”_

“With my fists!”

_“No Mercy!”_

“Peace was _never_ an option.” 

_"Shoot them in the head!"_

You glanced at the game you were standing beside. “I should move away. It’s playing off of my frustrations.” 

Mouse of the Dead’s overly machismo voice continued to spout off aggressive nonsense as you walked back to your seat. Once settled you pulled up your previously untouched app account page and skimmed over Undyne's handy work. 

According to her, you were looking for a whole assortment of relationship types, and it now made painful, frightening sense why you were so often propositioned for dinner dates with dessert in the form of sitting on men’s laps. 

True to Ketchup’s word, ‘relationship’ was indeed checked off as something you were seeking and you took the time to very thoroughly rework your profile to your liking. The worst part was realizing that in hindsight, this was so obvious. The vast majority of messages you received were not platonic. That’s not to say they were disrespectful or gross, but you received _a lot_ of invites to coffee shops. 

That’s part of what drew you to enjoy Ketchup’s online company; a joke as a hello and no follow up about teaching you how to ride a bike.

Your time was almost up. Better to respond quickly then work out the rest on your next break. 

__________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : To answer your question, no. It’s not hard to meet humans (I think) and no I haven’t had any dates. 

**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : But full disclosure here. My profile was full of lies and slander. And not of my own doing. There exists a being in my life whose soul purpose is to make mine harder in every aspect. The relations part of my profile was tampered with without my knowledge.  
____________________________________________________________________________

That would do for now you thought while hurrying out of the arcade. You only had a couple of minutes of time left. Taking the stairs two at a time brought you got the secluded entrance with seconds to spare. As quietly as you could you crept over to your seat before settling in. There was a noticeable shimmer to the audience, even in the dark light. 

“Was a glitter cannon fired?” You whispered. 

“yup.”

“Crap I needed that. How’d you do?”

“one away from four corners and two daubs away from a bingo on m.” 

“Damit. Well I _was_ in was in the lead. What’s his average cannon usage again?”

“twice per show, not including the encore.”

“Sweet, then I still have a chance.” 

“hey, you ever notice how fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing?”

“Not until this very moment. Now hush, if there’s a baby reveal or news that he’s pregnant I’ll be two away from a bingo. Now go, it’s your turn.”

“see ya in a bit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sans, too lazy to take the stairs to what was ultimately a short walk to the arcade, took a shortcut behind the Squee Ball machine and sat down at the nearest table.  
He finally got a response on the app and was nervous and eager to read it. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** :To answer your question, no. It’s not hard to meet humans (I think) and no I haven’t had any dates. 

**IsAnyBodyOutThere** :But full disclosure here. My profile was full of lies and slander. And not of my own doing. There exists a being in my life whose soul purpose is to make mine harder in every aspect. The relations part of my profile was tampered with without my knowledge.  
____________________________________________________________________________

That.. made his soul sink a little. While it was a small comfort to know they weren’t currently dating anyone else on the app, it also felt like his chances were slipping away.

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : dats rough.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Sans really didn’t know what else to say. But it seemed to be all-encompassing. Both in regards to their profile being tampered with and his feelings. 

He opted to try and move the conversation elsewhere. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : and uh, u used the wrong ‘soul’ n sole purpose.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Wow. Sans the Skeleton, correcting grammar? No one ever thought they’d see the day. 

Sans fished some arcade extra tokens out of his dimension box and tried to distract himself by playing a few rounds of Squee Ball. He won 47 tickets worth by the end before shortcutting back just outside the theatre’s entrance. His spirits were dampened, but this was the first step of moving forward and stripping away all the feelings he’d rather not feel and stuffing them in his closet with all the other things he’d like to forget exist.

_come on sans, it’s not like you ever stood a chance anyways._

Sans blinked his eyes hard to adjust his eyelights to the darkness before walking to his seat. On the stage, a debonair looking Metatton was singing a ballad about new love blossoming like a flower before it settled into the comfortable bliss of old love.

….. _fml_

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you saw Sans take his seat you wordlessly got up and strolled back to the arcade. You didn't want to admit that you hadn’t earned a single point since he’d left. Granted there were some really obscure things on the bingo cards. Like building a robotic cat. Named dog. 

That was supposed to be an octopus…

Anywho. Ketchup had messaged you back so you checked out his response. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : dats rough. 

**KetchupDawg101** : and uh, u used the wrong ‘soul’ n sole purpose.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Ha. If only he’d ever met Undyne he’d know how wrong he was.

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : No, I used that one intentionally. It would literally be going against her soul’s nature if her actions didn’t involve some form of horseplay. She was a natural-born prankster and professional meddler.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Granted you had no doubt that Alphys encouraged some of this deceit, but that was a train of thought for another day. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : A couple of my friends had encouraged me to make a profile. Thought I should try and meet people outside of work and my current friend group. 

**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : Actually I’m 95 percent sure they just wanted me to start dating again. There was a time with my ex-boyfriend where one of them was writing some pretty in-depth, long-winded fanfic about the two of us. I think she was concerned that because I wasn't dating again that maybe I wasn’t moving on? Or something?  
____________________________________________________________________________

This time you didn't have to wait long for a reply. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : so you’re single? 

**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : Yes. 

**KetchupDawg101** : but ur not lookin 2 date?  
____________________________________________________________________________

_Well…_

That’s true. You didn’t join up with the expectation of dating; it was mostly to make your friends happy. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : It wasn’t the reason I joined. I did it to meet new people. Plus The relationship potential didn’t appeal to me because I still…  
____________________________________________________________________________

You didn’t fully finish your text, the words not coming to you, but sent what you had anyways. It wasn’t lost on you that this was probably the most personal conversation the two of you have had so far. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : still have feelins 4 ur ex?

 **IsAnyBodyOutThere** : PFFFT.

 **IsAnyBodyOutThere** : Oh heavens no. That ship has long since sailed. If I could go back in time I wouldn’t change any of my decisions. Which tells me we weren’t a good match.  
____________________________________________________________________________

It felt kind of nice to talk about this with someone who wasn’t Alphy’s or Undyne. Papyrus was a great friend, but he always tried to be helpful in some way. And sometimes you just needed tea and sympathy. Not a blueprint to logically fix every problem you’re having. 

Then there was Sans. Sans was great, but you two were NOT the touchy-feely sort of friends. During your break up with Noah, he _tried_ to be a shoulder for you to cry on. He told you repeatedly that he’d help in any way he could, but when it came to actually deal with the red-faced, watery-eyed, snotty mess of a human, he ran for the hills. 

Intense emotions just weren’t his thing. And you get that. 

So having one more potential outlet was a welcome change and Ketchup was one of the two new friends you made on Yakety App.

The other being Dildo_Baggins, and there was no way you were gonna text DB about any of your feelings. They were the friend who asked you things like “what’s a yeet do?” and told you about their excitement at having been the millionth visitor to a bulk yarn-site and winning a million dollars. 

That was a long night of teaching them about the sad dark world of internet scammers. 

The point is you could talk to Ketchup about anything. 

Including these feelings. You began to type out a more thorough response.

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : No it’s just that, I’m just not sure I can physically deal with a relationship again. Ya know? The last one failed and nothing that caused it to fail has changed. My job is tough to work around, and I put my career in the forefront of my life. And that’s how I want to keep things right now. Also I’m not the excessively lovey dovey type. An ideal relationship would be one where we can talk every day, and then I can be gone for weeks on end without talking once and then come home like nothing changed. Like I haven’t been missed so freaking much that the next work assignment is going to drive a tiny wedge between us. Like I haven’t been missed so much it makes me feel guilty for being happy while I’m gone, doing what I love. I want a relationship where I don’t have to worry about that shit, and instead of having to loudly confirm my love on a regular basis I can just send Woman Yells at Cat memes and that’s enough, ya know?  
____________________________________________________________________________

…

Kind of... just like this. 

You hesitated, finger poised over the send button. 

You’ve thought about it once before. Imagining this mysterious not-so-stranger curled up on a fuzzy blanket beside you, while gazing up at a sea of stars. 

You’ve spent a night or six imagining what kind of monster you were slowly getting closer to. And the mystery made those thoughts all the more enticing. 

It really didn’t seem like such a bad thought then. And now? Honestly, if nothing much had to change you could totally see yourself getting even closer with Ketchup. What the two of you already had going on worked well for you. 

You sent the message and contemplated your next move while walking towards the stairs. You had spent so much time in your head that it was slipping away on you now. Intermission was gonna be any minute and you wanted to keep your bag with you. The chorus was in full force as you ascended up to the hallway.

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** :I get the feeling you were asking for a specific reason. So shot in the dark here. 

**IsAnyBodyOutThere** :I mean, if you were interested in being that person, the one that I spam with internet garbage every so often while also being more than just my online friend…  
____________________________________________________________________________  
You paused just outside the theatre entryway and took a deep breath. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**IsAnyBodyOutThere** : We could try? Could try dating that is. If that’s something that would interest you?  
____________________________________________________________________________

You saw a singular firework shoot out above the audience before the curtains closed for intermission. A taste of tonight's finale? Fireworks were on your bingo sheet so you were ecstatic. 

The lights along the theatres’ wall brightened and the packed auditorium filled with chatter as patrons made their escapes to the bathroom and concession booths. 

You bounded over to Sans gloating about another point on your card. 

“doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean doesn’t count. I was here for it.”

“your butt wasn’t in the seat.” 

“Nowhere in the rules does it stipulate anything about the location of our asses. That point is mine.” From your vantage point, you could see the tall form of Papyrus attempting to carefully maneuver around slower people to escape to the lobby. “We’d better go, Paps is on the move. And I have to use the bathroom.”

Sans slurped the air through the straw in his now empty drink, the flow of it gurgling annoyingly. “if that point back then didn’t count when i was backstage, _literally_ spitting distance from the mettaton, then this doesn’t count.”

He got you there. 

Why had you made such a fuss about that before? “Fine, fine, it doesn’t count,” you conceded while snagging your bag from your chair then turning to leave without him. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sans mentally prepared himself for the up and coming half-way discussion with his brother. That was always the tricky part since he missed about half of whatever happened on stage. That’s why this was a two-man operation. At least one of you two had to have be present for what tangent Papyrus would be gushing about. 

And truthfully, he was rather distracted for most of the first act. 

Hell. He was distracted for all of it, and if he was dragging his feet a little more solemnly than usual he would blame on residual sickness. 

“Sans! Over here! I’m right where I said I’d be. By the claw machine!” Paryus waved a slender arm in the air as if there was any chance Sans couldn't see him. His 3D glasses were now perched atop his skull. “Brother, I was so choked up during that forest monologue. I think it was some of his most profound and deepest works yet. Those metaphors were metaphors FOR metaphors.” Papyrus mimed a chef’s kiss and Sans could only nod along. 

“yeah, it was great.”

"What was your favourite part of the wedding?" 

“uhhhh….”Sans looked toward the line up by the bathrooms but didn’t see you in it. Perhaps you were already inside? Hopefully, you’d be back soon. “it’s hard to say. the whole thing was so…” Sans faltered, trying to be vague. “memorable?” 

“Yes indeed it was.” Papyrus placed his hand atop his skull as if to prevent the contents from leaking out over having his mind previously blown. “A wedding that turned into a divorce, because they had secretly been married before because their spy jobs required them to pose as newlyweds, but when they went to arrange the fake wedding, a REAL priest was hired and the sham wedding was legally binding! Such a twist!”

Sans was present for exactly none of that scene. 

_come on buddy, where are you?_

“umm.. that inflatable t-rex was cool?”

“Hm? Oh yes! Professor Small Arms! Who knew he’d end up being the professor of Cool Academy?”

“he was what now?” Sans quietly cursed under his breath.

_shit_

“Which one of the classes he taught did you like the most?”

Sans began to stammer nonsensically and fumbled for his phone, hoping it might hold the key for him getting out of this alive. 

What it did have were new messages. 

That he skimmed. And then read.

And then had to reread. And then had to reread again. Sans didn’t know how long he stood there, jaw dropped, gapping at his phone, but it must have been long enough to be weird. 

“Sans, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell again?” Papyrus bent down, eyes full of concern. “What’s going on?”

Sans, with that last remaining brain cell proclaimed “i have to go now. to a place. that’s not this place. it’s a good excuse!” before turning around and power walking away to find a quiet dark corner to quietly exist in. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Papyrus watched as his brother dashed away and tutted under his breath. 

“Poor Sans. He has a very nervous bladder indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theatre story part 2 of 2 has now become 2 of 3. 
> 
> Somebody pull the fire alarm. I'm begging you.


	11. The Night that Undyne Marked me for Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally leave the theatre. That's literally all that happens.

The MTT play’s intermission was in full throttle and the packed theatre exploded in a flood of hungry mouths and bladders that needed emptying. Yours included, and after a quick trip to the secluded secret bathroom that was always line free, you made a run for one of the upper floor emergency exits. A little cool air seemed like a good idea as you awaited Ketchup’s response. That little voice inside your head proclaiming that you didn’t care if he wasn’t interested was dothly protesting far too much. 

You ignored the Emergency Exit Only sign depicting an angry faced Mettaton and stepped into the damp chill of the night. Even with the residual traffic noises, it was still quieter out here than back inside and the reprieve was welcomed. 

Ketchup had been responding readily before, but after the offer you made that you were _sure_ was on the nose regarding the readings you were getting off of him, it was easy to have a little ‘not-freak-out’ at the silence. Which was not completely fair, as there were a million reasons why Ketchup might not be responding, and playing worst-case scenario was not a good look on you. Or anyone for that matter. 

You heard a muffled cough to your left and looked back to see a figure slouching casually against the brick wall. A lit cigarette burned brightly in the dark of the night, hanging loosely from their mouth. The building’s neon lighting was on the other side, and what little light it provided this far back was barely enough to tip you off that this person, clad in all black clothing, looked slightly familiar. 

He was definitely one of the stagehands for Mettaton’s show and you were 99 percent sure he was “that guy.”

And since you were now staring at him for far too long to _not_ come off as creepy if he noticed, you decided to speak up. “Oh, hey there!” You called out, moving a few steps towards him and giving a wave for good measure.

At the sound of your voice, his posture stiffened and his pointy ears flattened down. You clearly spooked the man out of his thoughts.

He pulled out his cigarette and looked side to side, a telltale sign of someone worried they were getting busted. 

It may have had something to do with the No Smoking sign, not one meter away from his head. 

“I’m sorry to startle you,” you began, trying to sound as placating as possible. “I just thought, what are the odds I’d see you, and now here you are and I have this opportunity, so I wanted to thank you.” 

Even in the dark you could see his tongue slowly drag against his upper set of teeth, working its way from one side to the other while the rest of his body stayed frozen. Even his tail remained rigid, jutting straight out to his left at what was probably an uncomfortable yet comical angle. 

“So, a little backstory, I was falling behind in points for my Bingo game during the show, and you smoking while bringing out the fountain set-piece brought me back in the race.” 

You knew your little game with Sans was absurd, but talking about it out loud to a perfect stranger made it feel ten times sillier. Luckily he just shrugged and gave an uncertain chuckle. But the tension in his body did ease as he relaxed back against the wall. While he adjusted his posture and took another slow drag of his cigarette his eyes did that weird white reflective thing that cats do. 

Yup, this had to be the guy. 

“I have no clue what you’re talkin’ bout, but it sounds dope.”

You brandished your bingo card, feeling safe to close the remaining distance and he leaned forward to look it over where you were tapping your finger. “See? Stage Hand Smoking is one of my squares.”

“Ok _that_ is amazing.” You kept the card held out as he continued to mull it over. “Sorry ta burst your bubble chickie, but ‘Ice Volcanos’ was the plot twist of the LAST show. That one’s gonna go unchecked this time ‘round.

You pulled the card back in mock offense, “Spoilers good sir, spoilers!” You both shared a laugh before you continued. “Yes, I remember that one. Was a huge deal for Sans. Gave him two completed rows. I was miffed.”

Unbeknownst to you one of his ears suddenly perked up and he began to scrutinize you more thoroughly. 

“Question for you, if I showed up dressed in all black with a crescent wrench do you think they’d let me walk backstage as though I worked there? Asking for a friend.”

He snickered while ashing out his cigarette butt against his sneaker. “Prolly’. He’s a big name, but it’s not like he has guards watchin’ over his many, many dressing rooms.” 

“Oh god, how many?” you asked, pocketing the card in your bag. 

He silently mouthed the words for a few beats before answering. “Six?”

“Yasss!! What a diva.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

“I’ll bet you have the _best_ stories. I need to hear more.” 

A loud chime rang out through the chilly air, signaling the five-minute call to act two, followed by a quiet groan. “Maybe another time chickie. Ain’t no rest for the wicked and all.”

You nodded somberly. “And I hear money doesn’t grow on trees. Plus I’ve totally ditched my friends just now and I should probably run back. Uh hey, keep this under your hat, but if you can somehow spin it to make a light randomly ballyhoo during the second half, that would give me my first bingo.” 

He laughed earnestly, promising to see what he could do before you parted ways. 

~~~~~~~~~

Sans the Skeleton was currently sitting in the driver seat of this brother’s car. His legs hilariously unable to come even remotely close the pedals with how far Papyrus kept the seat back. But that was ok. He didn’t need to race away in the night. He simply needed something to hold tightly on to (the steering wheel) while he processed his feelings and waited for the beating of his soul to lessen just enough to stop feeling like drums were pounding in his head.

_We could try? Could try dating that is. If that’s something that would interest you?_

They asked him out. Honest to goddamn goodness. He could say yes. And then he wouldn’t just be Sans the Skeleton anymore. He’d be Sans the Skeleton who is dating that really funny, (potentially soft and squishy) cool person who wanted a relationship that fits completely within the confines of the effort he was already expending now. 

He could say yes and have a person to flirt with (at?) even though Sans wasn’t very nuanced at flirting. Someone he could send his dirtier jokes to and it would not be weird. 

He could say yes and have another soul with whom he could dig this hole he called his life much, much deeper. 

He could say yes and… wait. Why hadn’t he said yes yet?

Double wait. What time was it? 

Sans reached over to grab his phone from the passenger seat where it was kept safe from the risk of dropping it between the seat and cup holder part of the car. His fat fingers could never fit without a lot of trouble, and he ate enough in the back of his brother’s car to know there were many, many french fries in various states of eww on that car floor that he didn’t want to touch. 

_Aw shit._

The second half of the play was minutes away from starting. Maybe less. Sans closed his eyes and thought about the dark space behind the two seats you had for the show. When he opened them back up he was standing behind the balcony seats, watching the last remaining wisps of the deep red curtain being swept to the side. You were already seated, staring intently at your phone, and hadn’t noticed his sudden entrance. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

**Rock Solid: Show is starting. Are you ok?**

Sans moved closer to the balcony and walked towards the seats with big strides so as not to scare you when he came into view. You stood up at his arrival and he squeezed past you to his seat. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there at intermission,” you whispered. “I was talking to someone and lost track of time.” 

Sans quietly cleared his throat. “don’t worry bout it. i was, uh. yeah. don’t worry bout it.” 

Sans leaned into your touch as you reached over to give his arm a squeeze, your expression filled with fondness as you mouthed a silent thank you. Sans rested his hand on yours before you could pull away. “you mind if we just complete the rest of the game together tonight? i’m feeling tired.” 

“Of course. It’s not a problem at all.” Your face grew a look of concern. “Feeling sick again?" 

“no, just tired.” 

You nodded, not pressing any further, and gave his arm a final soft squeeze before settling back into your seat. 

As quietly as Sans could, he pulled his phone out and nestled into his unzipped hoodie so the light wouldn’t bother you. 

On the stage, a bunny began sawing a magician in half while he discretely typed out his reply. For what should have been a one worded, simple answer, Sans somehow managed to draw it out in his typical manner of tomfoolery despite not meaning to this time. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : ya. i mean, it’s not really not, _not_ sumthin that wudn’t interest me. 

**IsHoping4A_Yes** : Oh no, multiple negatives. Are you trying to convolutedly let me down? Cause that’s the worst way to be let down. I'd take gently or directly over convolutedly.

____________________________________________________________________________

Sans felt heat rise to his cheeks and a warm feeling blossom in his chest at the sight of their changed username.

____________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : yes

**IsHoping4A_Yes** : Yes you're convolutedly letting me down? 

**KetchupDawg101** : no 

**IsHoping4A_Yes** : No you want to date? 

**KetchupDawg101** : yes. 

**IsHoping4A_Yes** : Then why didn't you say so? 

**KetchupDawg101** : i just did.

____________________________________________________________________________ 

Sans was sure that if Papyrus could see this all unfolding he’d be standing there, palms pressed together, fingertips at his mouth with a look of great concern border lining on explosive frustration. Why was he so bad at all the things? 

To his right, you sighed loudly and began to fidget in your seat, probably distracted by the uncomfortable opera number that Mettaton was performing from a balcony on stage. Made uncomfortable by the costume made entirely of human hair. The solo must have been going on for at least 6 minutes and reminded him why they bother taking 15-minute breaks for their game in the first place. 

He’d never admit it, but this game was pretty much a wash. He was far more engrossed in his secret conversation than the show, and that made him feel a tiny ping guilt. You were here tonight for him, after helping out when he was ill. You were a great friend, even if a casual one. And he was here to have fun with you, not fawn on his phone all night. But it’s unlikely he would get caught, so fawn on his phone he did.

____________________________________________________________________________

**IsRegrettingA_Yes** : Wait. 

**IsRegrettingA_Yes** : I take it all back. You’re uninvited to date me. Go away and take what passes as your sense of humor with you. 

**KetchupDawg101** : it’s 2 late. by being polite and showing basic human decency you’ve pledged ur luv, agreed to marry me n give urself 2 me in every way imaginable. and in sum ways that arn’t. 

**IsRegrettingA_Yes** : Unimaginable Love? I can’t even fathom that. 

**KetchupDawg101** : pffft.

____________________________________________________________________________

On the stage, Professor Small Arms charged into the scene, (a science lab) alerting the surprised science nerds to the asteroid that was inbound for Earth. By his calculations, they needed to combat it with their own projectile to have any hope in saving the world. 

Mettaton the Brave stepped up, his white lab cloak flapping dramatically, and offered to be the one shot at the dastardly rock. He’d use his charms and fists to break it into pieces. To his left a pretty lady threw herself at his feet and wailed, begging him not to go. He simply swished his hair back and told her the world needed him more than she did. 

Sans vaguely recalled that Mettaton in space was maybe a point he needed, but right now he was too distracted to care. 

~~~~~~~~ 

So you all but gave up on trying to win MTTGO. Ketchup said yes, (in his own way) to dating, and you found yourself covered in goosebumps and unable to focus on the play; instead opting to stick your phone to your left, wedging it in between your leg and the seat so the light of the screen wouldn’t distract Sans. You mostly kept your eyes forward only glancing down to peek at the messages, and replying without looking, relying on muscle memory to do the typing. 

You spared a glance at Sans again, feeling slightly guilty about ignoring the game you were supposed to be playing. It was unlikely that he’d care, but still. He was such a great friend, and you were lucky to have someone as chill and constant in your life as he was. 

On the stage, Mettaton, who wearing an oversized pair of boxing gloves, was being loaded into a large catapult as a crowd of onlookers cried and waved their handkerchiefs at him. He was going to fight the moon or something? You really weren’t paying attention. 

A loud voice rang out, counting down from ten. The audience (Papyrus) enthralled in the play, shouted along with it. When the timer got to one a loud rumbling sound effect played and Mettaton was launched into space as a single spotlight began to ballyhoo. 

The guy came through! 

You jumped out of your seat in excitement, whisper- shouting a “Fuck yeah!” as your phone and bingo dauber clattered to the ground. When you looked over Sans was fighting back a smile and smile and giving you a cockeyed look. 

You quickly sat back down and snatched up the dauber and then your phone, unconcerned about fall damage since it’s work case was beefy. 

You could hear Sans clearing his throat. “you’re exuding papyrus like levels of enthusiasm. are you feeling ok?” 

“Shhhhh. You talk too much,” you whispered quietly. 

You went back to your discrete conversion with Ketchup who kept sending you dating jokes. 

___________________________________________________________________________

**KetchupDawg101** : a boy asks the girl ‘so, is my salary sufficient enough for you?’ 

**KetchupDawg101** : the girl responds ‘yes, but how will you survive?’ 

**IsRegrettingA_Yes** : I demand 70 percent of the total sales of your inflatable anchors. ____________________________________________________________________________

On the stage, the epic climax of the show came to a head and when the smoke cleared and the glitter (stardust?) settled, the chorus gathered to sing out the closing number while Mettaton fabulously spun around in space, having saved the whole world from destruction. 

Loud applause, whistling and hollering filled the theatre as patrons stood up from their seat to continue showing support. Papyrus was no doubt the first one to stand. The performers lined up on stage, with Mettaton and his love interest front and center to bow and point stage left, right, and to the tech booth. 

Both you and Sans began to quickly gather up your things and snag your garbage from the floor, tossing it into the nearby rubbish bin. 

“to the claw?” Sans asked. 

“TO THE CLAW!” you responded, still feeling giddy from before. 

When Papyrus finally met up with you after purchasing an armful of show merch, you all headed to his car while he prattled on about his favourite scenes and character highlights. You and Sans did your best to contribute to the conversation and fill in the blanks for each other, which was harder this time. Ignoring most of the second half of a play will do that. 

Papyrus started the car and looked back at your two in the rearview mirror. His voice was less enthused and more serious. “Was it a good night, you two?” he asked hesitantly. 

You smiled at him, but before you could respond, Sans spoke up. 

“it was a great night paps. thanks for bringing us. you’re the coolest” 

You nodded. “Yeah Papyrus. What he said. Thank you.” 

With a satisfied ‘nyeh’ Papyrus pulled out of the parking space and drove you home, promising to join both you and Sans for the next monthly movie night. 

Even though all you wanted was to stay up in your reverie and bask in the exciting events of the night, your body felt exhausted. You wished Ketchup a reluctant but pleasant goodnight while going through the motions of changing and brushing your teeth. Once snuggled in bed there was only one thing left to do. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**IsOn2UrShitUndyne <.b>: Hey guys. **

****

****

**Muscles4Days** : Sup 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : Hi! How was the show? I was invited to the dress rehearsal. Wasn’t it great? 

**IsOn2UrShitUndyne** : Fabulous as always. So two quick things. 

**IsOn2UrShitUndyne** : One. Ketchup and I are now dating. 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : OMG OMG OMG WHHHHAT? 

**Muscles4Days** : Wow. Someone is on the prowl! 

**IsOn2UrShitUndyne** : And two. Alphys, Undyne has like, 17 chapters of _explicit_ Mew Mew Kissy Cutie fanfic that she’s written over the past two years that she’s been hiding from you. 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : ?????? 

**Muscles4Days** : What the actual fuck? You promised you wouldn't tell! 

**IsOn2UrShitUndyne** : Oh, and thanks for the “help” with my profile creation Undyne. Or should I call you daddy? 

**Mew_Mew_Lover** : ?????!!!!! 

**Muscles4Days** : …... 

**IsOn2UrShitUndyne** : Going to turn off my phone now and sleep. Byeeeeeeeeee. ____________________________________________________________________________

It was indeed time for sleep. You’d deal with the subsequent fallout tomorrow. 

tbc 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. And I'm sorry. It was a funny idea in the beginning, ok? Now I'm just glad this bit is finally over. 
> 
> This is your resident tired girl, signing off.


	12. The Weight of His Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans tries and fails at buying a phone.
> 
> The place and times stamps are meant to be read with Law & Order or X-Files music in your head.

Your Residence  
101 Bigsbee Drive Unit 23  
Ebbot City, XX  
Monday, August 17

This new guy of yours was seriously the best. You had left your phone on silent the night before after calling out your friend Undyne then changing your username to something more celebratory. Then you accidentally left it at home when you rushed out to work the next day. There was a boatload of grocery shopping left to do after work since your house was practically void of all food, (now that you thought about it you were running low on ketchup), and getting to your cell was the last thing on your mind. 

The already long day dragged super late into the evening before you finally got home, goodies in tow. And when you waltzed to your room to check any messages your heart beamed to find nothing from your new date mate. No string of texts followed with “hey are you ok?”, or a “why aren’t you responding?” Or, your _personal favourite_ , “did I do something wrong?” You inadvertently ignored Ketchup the whole day and there were zero guilty messages to be had on your phone. 

That’s not quite right, there were a bunch of texts from Undyne that you could have felt guilty over if you had the capacity to bother feeling anything other than delight over outing side hustle as a fanfic writer. 

At long last, it happened. You finally had a partner that had a life outside of you. One whose world didn’t revolve around clinging to your every word or thought. He had a job, a family. He was too busy to try and keep tabs on your every move. 

“Isn’t this awesome Fernicuss?” you asked out loud, wrapping an arm around your Ostrich Fern that was perched on the counter. 

The plant didn’t respond. 

In fact, the only message you had bothered with was a much earlier text from Sans asking if you were down for your regularly scheduled movie night later this month. Habitually you responded ‘yes, but remind me the day before.’ 

Once all the food was packed away and a lazy pizza was thrown into the oven, you settled in on your loveseat, streaming some random movie for background noise while you fished out a trashy romance novel from between the cushion seats. 

A simple message of “sup dawg?” was sent off to Ketchup before getting back to your book where Abigail was currently in disguise as something decidedly _not_ human and traversing the arcane black market for a pregnancy test that would show results with supernatural partners. She had all the symptoms and had been with Chaddieus the vampire, the Wendigo Prince, and Maverick the werewolf in the short amount of time that she discovered monsters living amongst the humans.

* * *

The Skeleton Residence  
4217 Rukkus Way  
Ebott City, XX  
Monday, August 17

Sans dropped his phone in the bathtub and was losing his shit.

And dropped was not at all the right word. But that was his story and he was sticking to it. 

He never took baths, opting for showers instead and the only reason he had drawn a bath was that he decided in a panic that he had to bleach the everloving hell out of his bedsheets, and the only reason he had to bleach the everloving hell out of his sheets was that he had a dream that his wonderful squishy date-mate came over to be wonderful and squished, but was squicked out by the state of his room and more specifically, the state of his linens. 

This dream version partner had bounded into his room, twirling in excitement over entering it for the first time, and exclaimed over the fact that his sheets had the iconic ‘Starry Night’ pattern only for them to realize his sheets were originally white, and that wasn't a dyed pattern on the sheets but various, and we’re talking various with a capital WTF, of stains. That last thing he remembered before waking up was them proclaiming that the room smelled like a human foot sauna that sold onion rings.

He woke up in hysteria and before he knew what was going on the bedspread was bundled up and tossed in the tub which was subsequently filling up with hot water while he ransacked under the sink looking for bleach; which he then proceeded to dump in the entire contents of the bottle.

Little did he know his phone slipped out of his pocket that night and was bunched up in all the fabric.

And by the time he sussed out where his cell phone ended up, it was too late to try and save it. Now what could he do? The shops were closed by the time he realized his phone was missing so buying one that night wasn’t an option. Throwing it in a jar of rice did nothing. Or maybe it would have if he hadn’t kept taking it out to check over and over again if it would finally turn on. 

It was humiliating on a personal level. If Sans could rewire a gutted microwave with spare parts from a children’s toy, then how could he not fix a waterlogged cell phone? He couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

Sans was so deep in his fretting that he didn't hear his brother come home and walk up the stairs. 

“Oh my goodness, what in the. Why does our house smell like a pool? Sans! What is going on?”

Sans left the bathroom to try and intersect Papyrus, keeping him out of the bathroom and from knowing too much. “i was cleaning?”

Papyrus, the tall fellow that he was, didn't notice his brother's attempts to body block him. “That’s that great to hear but I don’t believe it for a second.” When Papyrus pushed his way to the bathroom he looked noticeably surprised. “Oh, I guess you are cleaning… but why in the tub? And did you properly dilute whatever cleaning agent you were using? It smells so strong.”

“di–what now?” Sans asked uselessly. 

“Hold on… Where is Duckiest Mightiest?”

 _shit. oh god oh no._ Sans thought in dismay as he looked in horror at his bathtub for the second time that day.

Papyrus always kept a little rubber duck on the side of the tub. It’s not that he was a babybones and needed toys to play with; the duck was more bathroom decor and sentimental. It was given to him by a friend that liked to collect random themed rubber ducks from all their travels throughout the world and paint them. This one was painted to look like it wore Papyrus’ favourite battle body outfit. It was a gift and was special to him. 

Papyrus quickly caught on to Sans' fear and wordlessly he used his magic to move about the sheets and blankets until he found the toy. It was mostly unscathed, but some of the paint had clearly begun to fade.

“papyrus i am so sorry. i swear i had no idea it was in there. i feel awful,” Sans said, almost unable to look his brother in the eye. 

Papyrus sighed loudly and Sans could see him visibly counting to ten in his head, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nasal bone. 

“This is fine,” he concluded. “I know it was an accident, and I’m sure you will be more careful going forward. I’m going to get a head start on dinner. Can you please try and take care of this in the meantime?”

“sure thing bro.” 

As Papyrus left Sans reached into the tub and quickly pulled out the stopper before quickly running fresh water over his tingling arm. He wondered why he didn’t just use his magic, but like most of his brilliant ideas, it was fleeting. 

He was left alone to come to terms with his situation; not only was talking to his datemate tonight was hopeless, but something important to Papyrus was caught in the crossfire. He was stuck waiting until tomorrow to get a replacement phone and marvel at the wonder that was another soul daring to date him.

“WHY IS THERE A CELL PHONE IN THE RICE JAR?”

“son of a–” Sans swore under his breath and popped downstairs into the kitchen. “i dropped my phone in the tub and heard that putting it in rice can draw out the moisture and save the device,” Sans explained hastily. 

“So you put it in our _only_ jar of rice?”

“correct.”

“Your cell phone. Which was also covered in industrial-grade bleach?”

“yes…”

“Now rendering the rice inedible?”

Sans only nodded. 

“Ok, brother it has been a long day. And you get one more.. _Youism._ ”

Sans plunked himself down at the kitchen table, already forgetting about dealing with his almost certainly ruined sheets while he wallowed in embarrassment.

Papyrus sat beside him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “I imagine you’re upset because you can no longer message this new partner of yours so soon after starting your relationship”? 

San continued to nod, having not stopped from Papyrus' last question. 

“You’ll speak to them when you get a new phone. And this is a valuable lesson to all of us. I don’t yet know what it is, but I have to believe at least one of us is walking away with some sort of wisdom.”

Sans leaned into his touch before he pulled his hand away. 

“Honestly, Sans, what were you even trying to accomplish?”

Sans thought back to the dream and decided to leave his motive out of the equation. “wash my bedspread.”

Papyrus groaned as if in pain. “My God sans!”

“i know i know!” Sans began defensively, “that’s what the washing machine is for right?”

“NO! Have you lost your mind? I’ve told you time and time again those sheets need to be burned. Not washed in my expensive washing machine.”

Sans felt like that should have been insulting but also didn't feel like digging deep enough to fall down that line of thought.

“Please tell me you were at least not foolish enough to mix household cleaning products.”

“nah, it’s just bleach. well... bleach with a can of body spray to try and cut the smell…”

“Oh dear it just gets worse. Why is it the more you talk the more I hate what you’re capable of” Papyrus abruptly stood up from the table and began to put away the ingredients he had pulled out. “I'm staying at Undyne’s tonight.”

“but you said i get one more!”

“I’m fully aware Sans, but I cannot imagine there is anything you can do to remove the foul stench upstairs anytime soon and I promise you I cannot sleep as long as it lingers.” 

Sans reverted back to his mopey face. “i’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. We’ll open the windows and everything will be right as rain in the morning. Do you think you can manage your own dinner tonight?”

The look of pure disbelief on sans face was unmistakable. 

“i did raise you, you know.”

“And it’s a miracle either one of us survived.”

* * *

Verdigris Park  
8534 170 Street  
Ebott City, XX  
Tuesday, August 18

The day had finally crossed into early evening status and Sans could scramble to close up his hotdog stand. He hoped like hell he could make it to the Cellomatic before it got too busy and whipped up a couple of relish dogs at top speed. Sans ran for nothing these days, but for a new phone to talk to Issy well, he’d hustle for that. 

A familiar pair of legs poked out from behind the dumpster and Sans screwed over with this cart in tow and dogs in hand. “hey donovan,” Sans greeted before reaching down to pass Donovan his two hotdogs as the latter mumbled his thanks. “sorry to dine and dash buddy but i got something important to do.” Sans took his habitual peek to check if the coast was clear before shortcutting home and storing his money and gear. 

The closest Cellomatic was at a mall that had a number of safe places to shortcut to and he found himself blipping to a dark cramped back alley loaded with cardboard boxes and rushing to the mall's entrance. Once inside his soul sank. For a Tuesday evening the mall was packed with shoppers and mall rats. Sans could only hope the Cellomatic wasn’t as busy as everything else seemed to be. 

One agonizingly slow escalator ride later (did these people seriously not understand that you stand to the right so walkers can move past on the left!?) Sans pulled his defunct phone out of his pocket to uselessly, albeit habitually, check the time. He was pretty sure the stores here didn’t close shop until six or seven, but he still felt on edge. 

As Sans walked up the phone shop he passed a curious string of people all standing around the store before he realized in shock that it was the line to enter and he could not cut past all the people before him. 

At least 11 people were ahead of him and he reluctantly found his place at the back of the line, settling himself with a reminder that it would all be over soon. All around him people were glued to their phones and what he wouldn’t give to be them for five minutes; just long enough to talk Issy at least one. 

And wasn’t that a curious thought? Sans wondered at what point he started to refer to his datemate as Issy. Well, it seemed applicable since they called him Ketchup and despite now dating for all of a bunch of hours their real names had not yet been divulged. 

When Sans was the second in line his patience began to turn to excitement. All in all he didn’t care too much about the kind of phone he got; he was simply thrilled to be one step closer to righting some of his wrongs. To finally contact Issy to say literally anything and let them know that he wasn’t ignoring them so soon after they started dating. 

“Hello Sir!” came an alarming peppy voice. At the store's entrance stood a man with a perfectly straight, blonde bowl cut and wearing the store's signature black uniform with his arm gesturing Sans to enter. “And how can I help you today?”

Sans cleared his throat before presenting his dead phone. “had a little trouble last night and need to replace this.” 

“Ouu, now that’s a model you don’t see these days. How long have you been using that?”

“i dunno, a while?” was all San could offer. He really wasn’t in the mood for idle chit-chat and began moving over to the row of small cell phones they had tethered to the wall. 

“Alright, so we have a lot of options here. What are you hoping to get out of your new phone?”

“my datemate’s affection,” Sans mumbled under his breath. 

“I’m sorry?”

“uh nothing. this looks sort of like what I had in mind,” Sans said pointing to a small phone that had zero bells and whistles. “i’ll buy this.”

“Hmm… you _could_ buy that one, but I’ll be honest, it’s on the out and out. Soon we won’t even carry that line or even any accessory or cases for it. It’s the oldest available model for the Talkie Series. You might want to consider something with more relevance.”

 _noi do not have the patience to be upsold right now._

“nah,” he sighed, mustering up as casual of a tone as he could. “this looks fine to me.” 

Bowl cut squinted his eye and regarded carefully. “Alright, you're the boss. If you wait in line at the counter I’ll go grab the phone from the back and meet you there.” 

Sans watched the man disappear to the back room and took his advice to secure his place in line. Before long the box with his new phone was being rung through as he drummed his phalanges on the glass counter. 

“So, your total including GST will come to 109.99. I’ll grab your account info after that. How are you paying?” 

Sans brandished his debit card and reached forward, tapping it against the card reader before it beeped angrily at him. 

“Uh, sorry Sir, it says declined. Sometimes our tap is iffy, would you like to try again?”

San nodded and waited for the purchase to appear again on the screen and this time opted to insert his card instead. He followed the prompts, (was there seriously a tip option? In a cell phone store? Yeah, no) and pressed ok. After a couple of moments the same annoying beep rang out and the declined message popped up again. Sans glared daggers at the machine, knowing full well he had money in the bank. He worked almost every day, gave up drinking and living the past year damn near like a shut-in made for very few expenses. 

He was too frustrated to feel embarrassed and was already trying to work out a solution as bowl-cut shifted awkwardly on his feet. “this really makes no sense. i know i have money in my account. there is a branch of my bank here in the mall, i’ll just go there, get this all sorted and come back and pay for the phone.” 

The employee looked up towards the stored clock and sucked air through his teeth. “Might be cutting it close. Banks close at 5 and it’s 4:53.”

“that’s fine,” sasn explained, already taking a step back, “i can be quick.”

“Alright, just make sure you're back before 5:30”

That stopped Sans in his tracks. “what happens at 5:30?”

“We close?”

“what do you mean you close? i’m sure the mall stays open later than that.”

“Yeah but not today. It’s a mall holiday pal. Or a Malliday as we like to call them.”

“… a mallliday?” Sans was so confused he couldn't even enjoy the pun.

“Yeah, it’s Retail Appreciation Day. So all the shops in Ebott are closing up early.”

“and how long does this go for?”

“Just today,” he beamed cheerily. “We’ll be back to our regular hours tomorrow.”

It was time for a new plan. Assuming there was no line in the back he might be able to squeeze in before they close. Assuming whatever the hell was going on with his account was an easy fix, he could hurry back here before the Cellomatic closed. 

“if i make it on time can i come straight in and pay?”

“Ahh…” The man at least had the decency to look slightly crestfallen. “We’re gonna have to ask, for the sake of fairness, that you resume your space in line.” 

Sans looked out the door windows to the line which appeared to have almost doubled in length since Sans had stood in it. It reluctantly dawned on Sans that there would be no new phone tonight and he tried not to look agitated as he regarded the man. 

Sans reminded himself of his brother when through gritted teeth he sighed “this is fine,” and defeatedly sulked out of the store.

* * *

Whitemud Mall  
Bakers Way and Elrose  
Ebott City, XX  
Wednesday, August 19

Sans had yet to bother getting in touch with his bank. It fell further down his list of important things to do and he decided that he would pay for his new cell with the cash from this week’s hotdog sales that he hadn't deposited yet. The payment method was foolproof. 

Just to be safe Sans packed up earlier today before going through the same motions: dropping off the hotdogs to Donovan, dropping off his stuff at home, and rushing to the mall in anticipation of another massive line. 

But the universe had a funny sense of humor; the mall and subsequent Cellomatic was practically dead. Sans walked in to find the same bowl cut individual working today. He hoped to catch the eye of a different employee, perhaps the girl who was standing bored against a wall and looking at her fingernails, but a connection wasn't made and his new pal bounced over excitedly.

“Hello again. Back for round two?” He chuckled while lightly punching Sans' arm. 

Sans didn’t talk and only nodded.

“So, since we’re not short on time today I’d love to take a moment to show you some of our newer models that I think you'd really be impressed with if you just game them the chance. I promise we close at 7 even today, we have all the time in the world.” he shimmed gave Sans his best winning smile. 

Sans continued to bite his tongue for fear of snapping at the man if he tried to talk. He didn’t want a fancy phone, he just wanted A phone and he hoped that those vibes were coming across. If they were, the man didn't care.

Bowl cut walked to a different’ wall with a large set of phones and began to prattle on about this year’s newest models and all they had to offer. Sand reluctantly followed and let the man's words wash over him while trying to pay them little mind. He simply needed this guy to finish his spiel before he could explain that he simply wanted the cell phone that he looked at yesterday.

“And if you have a small business this one is the best phone to utilize the Plug Pay device. It’s easy to link it to your bank account and allows people to make transactions with the debit or credit cards right from your phone. It also had a much longer battery life than it’s predecessors, it scans your retinas in lieu of a passcode to– ”

 _Hold up,_ Sans thought. _This sounds relevant._

“hey, can you run that whole ‘make transactions on your phone bit’ by me again?”

Ah hell, was Sans really considering buying a super fancy phone so he could let his customers pay with plastic? Fifteen minutes later with both the Plug Pay device, cords, and phone in hand, it would seem yes. Yes, he was. He was even willing to get sucked into a new plan that would better unitized data and worked well for small businesses. 

_you’re a sucker, sans,_ he thought in his best Hagrid voice. 

“Alrighty, unfortunately I’m late for taking my break. I just had such a good time chatting with you that I wanted to help as much as I could. But Lisa here will be happy to ring you up.” He gestured to Lisa who hadn’t moved from the wall this entire time or stopped looking at her nails. “So glad we could work this all out, Sir. Take care now!!” He waved before removing his black apron and leaving the store.

Lisa moved behind the till and grabbed Sans’ purchases one by one and rang them through giving him a quick but genuine smile when their eyes met. He expected her to offer up what the hit to his wallet would be, but instead, she asked for his name so she could look him up in their system. 

“Hmm, I’m not seeing anyone named Sans T. Skeleton. Can you give me your phone number?”

When Sans obliged she typed way before a look of understanding graced her expression. “So this number is associated with the account made from a Papyrus.”

“that's my bro,” Sans explained, “he set up our phones years ago.”

“Yes, so unfortunately you are not on the account as a primary holder, so you are unable to make changes to your plan without him here to approve it, or without knowing the account's password. And since you need a new sim card you’d need him here with you to purchase it.” 

“Are you kidding me?”

To her credit, she did look genuinely upset at the situation. “Papyrus has a password in place, and you’re welcome to try and guess it. If you do I can set all this up. I really want to help you but it's company policy that changes need to be made by primary account holders.”

Desperately Sans slammed a hand on the counter and asked if the password was spaghetti.

To his surprise and horror, it was not. “Yesterday that guy literally was ringing my new phone, no questions asked. How is today any different’?

“Well…” Lisa looked towards the store’s entrance where bowl-cut had walked off to take his break. “T.K. should have asked you all this before finalizing the sale. I’m really not sure why he didn’t.” 

Sans deflated. “so what are my options?”

"So the only way I can sell you a working phone right now without the password is if you open up your own account with us which won't be as cheap. Under Papyrus's plan you’d already have some of the account features. But to start fresh you’d be looking at about… with the start-up fees, plus the devices insurance and the phone itself and Plug and Pay… We’re talking about a price tag of $550.”

Sans’ voice cracked, sounding like a desperate laugh. “i... honestly don’t know what to do right now.” He was unable to process how he was this close yet again to a new phone, but somehow remarkably far. He had brought his earnings from the hotdog stand, but it didn’t come anywhere near five hundred dollars. 

“Well why don’t you call him and ask for the password?” she offered. 

….

Wordlessly Sans turned on his heels and stormed out of the store.

* * *

The Skeleton Residence  
4217 Rukkus Way  
Ebott City, XX  
Thursday, August 20

Sans closed down the stand today. This city and his while color clientele could live without his hotdog for one measly day while he tried to keep his life together. Closing the stand didn’t stop Sans from buying a 20 dollar gift card to Jimmies, the local coffee and food chain that could be found practically every four blocks in the city. Sans sealed it in a discrete brown envelope and taped it to the side of the dumpster that Donovan liked to snooze against and hoped that he saw it and it made up for the lack of a free warm hot dog meal today. 

Papyrus couldn’t take time off work (the human/monster relations festival was right around the corner) to help him sort out his phone troubles but he did scribble his password on a piece of paper for Sans. Not that he needed it. 

The password ‘Hotpants’’ was prioritized in the fleeting available room in Sans’ brain. The importance of this word became so integral to his life it was probably going to become his new safe word. 

And now, after what felt like 84 years, Sans was on the couch at home with his new phone charged and in hand. Hopefully, the whole process would be–

_Please scan your retinas now._

Say what?

The lady in his phone who walked him through selecting the language, and time zone and yadda yadda yadda was now asking him to scan his retinas to allow him and only him access to his cell phone. 

His retinas….

Sans tried to see if the retina scanner worked with his eye lights but he never got it to register. 

_Please scan your retinas now._

Sans might just start drinking again...

The Front Yard of the Great Papyrus  
4217 Rukkus Way  
Ebott City, XX  
Thursday, August 20

When Papyrus got home late that evening his brother was laying on the front lawn with one of his arms draped over his eyes, groaning as if he was in pain. He did an initial frantic CHECK on this brother and calmed right down once seeing that he was fine. 

This was probably about the whole cell phone debacle. 

Papyrus laid down beside his brother before asking hesitantly, “So how did it go?”

Sans held up what appeared to be his new phone in hand. 

_Please scan your retinas now._

Papyrus had some thoughts about this whole thing, but he was almost certain Sans already had them first. With his brother, it was hard not to add insult to injury but he was going to try. 

“I take it you can’t use this new phone.”

Sans dropped it to the ground in confirmation. 

“Tell you what Sans. I haven’t used my personal cell phone for about three months now since I have a government-issued phone. It’s upstairs in my drawer not being used. If I had known how long this saga was going to play out I would have offered it up sooner.” 

At this news Sans stirred, sitting up to face him. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’ll even buy this new phone from you and gift it to a friend of mine so it’s not a total loss on your end.” Papyrus stood and reached a hand down to his brother. “Come Sans, it’s quite chilly. Let’s go in and get your new old phone set up.’

* * *

The Sans’ Bedroom, Still Without Sheets  
4217 Rukkus Way  
Ebott City, XX  
Thursday, August 20

Sans had to think carefully about what to say. He couldn’t just say anything. He hadn't spoken to Issy in days! Their message of sup dawg had gone unanswered and he could only hope they didn’t feel slighted by his absence this soon into the new relationship. Does he start off with an apology? Does he try to play it cool?

He opted for a joke.

____________________________________________________________________________  
**KetchupDawg101** : wut does corn say when u give it a compliment?

 **KetchupDawg101** : aww shucks.

 **Is_Yearninga_Sin** : I’d say that was corny, but that’s pretty typical. How are you?

 **KetchupDawg101** : fine how r u??

 **Is_Yearninga_Sin** : Pretty good. 

**Is_Yearninga_Sin** : Hey I just wanted to say that I think it’s really cool of you to show me that you really listened to all the fears I had shared about my last relationship not working and about me not always being present. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you deliberately gave me the space I was worried about not having and how you didn’t make a big deal of not talking for most of the week. 

**Is_Yearninga_Sin** : I just think you’re really cool.

 **KetchupDawg101** : yup. cool as a cucumber. that's me.

 **KetchupDawg101** : pretty much nothing ev r phases me. 

**KetchupDawg101** : i shud let u know that i’m not rly 1 4 overreacting. 

**KetchupDawg101** : and i‘m pretty good at planning things out

 **KetchupDawg101** : and 4seeing problems.

 **KetchupDawg101** : but i did miss talking 2 u. so wut were u up 2?

 **Is_Yearninga_Sin** : Oh ya know… reading

 **KetchupDawg101** :o ya? reading wut?

 **Is_Yearninga_Sin** : Uh… just.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Your Residence  
101 Bigsbee Drive Unit 23  
Ebbot City, XX  
Thursday, August 20  
Earlier that same day. 

Your book had been violently thrown across the room as you clutched your decorative pillows as if they were a life preserver in a stormy sea. You had suspected a crazy ending to your book, but you hadn’t thought that both Maverick and the wendigo prince would find love in each other and toss Abigail to the side. 

It was such an unexpected one-two-punch to the feels. You had always thought the weight of his burden, in fact, of all of the monster’s burdens had been the weight between their legs, the epitome of their sex. 

But in the end, it would seem the weight of their burden, was you, or rather Abigail all along...

Your mind was blown at the twist and your evening was spent questioning everything. 

____________________________________________________________________________  
**Is_Yearninga_Sin** : just… mah stories….  
____________________________________________________________________________

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope Papyrus remembered to throw out the rice. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
